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sturnsrecord · 12 hours ago

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꒰ — fratboy!chris & confident!reader ꒱. you meet again at a frat party — your sexy outfit, and more flirty demeanour causing feelings of attraction to stir.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't like frat parties – well for the most part. you could probably do without the cocky men and partially public sex that people took part in.

but other than that, you were in your element. flirting with anyone you spoke to, before usually finding someone who wasn't a complete piece of shit to have fun with.

about two hours in you'd already somewhat hooked up with jack again. he was eager, and no one else was tickling your fancy so you made out with him in the bathroom before he left with a smile on his face.

as you exit the bathroom you spot chris across the room, sat on a couch with a blonde on his lap.

now being able to place a name to the face, you had taken notice of chris quite quickly – watching as he takes a toke of his joint before holding her jaw and blowing the smoke into her mouth.

it was obvious he did this a lot, and maybe before properly meeting him you'd seen him at parties, you just hadn’t fully noticed him.

but now, it was very clear how popular he was – girls walking by flirtingly whilst he already had one on his lap, and another by his side.

you began to question how you hadn’t seen him before.

you watch as the blonde hops off his lap, kissing his cheek as he slips some sort of drug into her bra, followed by her giving him a couple of twenties.

once she's left he shoves the money into his pocket, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk appears on his lips. he nods his head a little before motioning for you to come over.

you don't think twice, strutting over confidently with a smirk on your own face. he watches your every move as you get closer, shamelessly admiring your short black dress that only just covered what it needed to.

you sit next to him on the couch, drink in hand as you use the other to make sure your dress is still covering you.

“no t-shirt?” he mocks, eyeing up your outfit as you sit. “no sorry, not this time.” you taunt back, feigning a sad look.

“ain’ sure which fit i like better.” he murmurs, taking a swig of his beer as his eyes remain on you, all of you.

you give him a look, shaking your head slightly in amusement – a smile plastered on your face at the compliment.

you’d looked good that morning he met you, despite your obvious hangover and overall messy attire – you looked hot.

but this, god. you looked fucking incredible, short black dress and your makeup done. chris would be lying if he said it wasn’t affecting him in some way.

yeah pretty much all the girls here were pretty… but you looked ridiculously good. and it made sense now, seeing you like this all dolled up.

he understood why you were so confident, i mean – it would be difficult not to looking like that.

his eyes stay on your form as he slouches back, his hips shifting up a little as he gets comfortable. “have fun with jacky?” he taunts, putting his beer down on the table beside the couch.

you look over with an unamused expression, heavily contrasting his grin. you take notice of his lidded eyes and amused smirk, assuming he was on something.

“hmm, i did.” you respond, biting back the smile. mostly from how fucked chris was right now, different to how he was when you met him a few days ago.

he chuckles a little, taking a drag of the joint that had been in his other hand, before offering it to you. you take it eagerly, ashing the end into the ashtray on the coffee table before bringing it to your lips.

he's quick to look over your body as you lean over, his eyes fleeting back to meet yours when you sit back up.

you're not oblivious, you know he's checking you out. but you didn't care – and you couldn't blame him with how you looked right now.

“you deal?” you ask, making conversation. “y’need somethin’ – what kinda shit y’into?” he asks, looking ready to sell you something already.

you go to say no, but his willingness to sell you something off the bat has you intrigued. “what you got?” you ask, your head nodding towards him.

he sighs, his arms extending over the back of the couch. “what d’ya want?” he asks, looking at you somewhat seriously.

his response suggests he has almost anything anyone could as for which only fuels your intrigue.

he clicks his teeth when you don't respond, shifting his position slightly. “you gon’ answer me or what? the fuck you want?” he repeats in a sigh.

“don't want anything.” you respond with a smile, taking a toke of the joint as you watch him roll his eyes, his arm dropping back to his side, clearly annoyed this wasn't a business opportunity for him.

“so what – y’don't do drugs or sum shit?” he asks judgmentally, trying to figure you out in the way you were doing with him.

you shake your head, exhaling as you do so. he immediately frowns, as if questioning why you hadn't just previously jumped at the opportunity to buy off him.

“don’ trust my shit or somethin’?” he asks, not loving the way you were so easily pushing his buttons.

you squint your eyes at him, shrugging just to annoy him a little, with a small smirk on your face. you take a toke of the joint before passing it back to him.

he scoffs at your silent response, shaking his head a little. “you always this…” he trails off, looking over you as he takes a toke.

you tilt your head, giving him a look. “this what?” you prompt, shifting on the couch to face him a little more.

he shrugs, clearly not wanting to share his thoughts. you take a sip of your drink, your tongue darting out into your cheek as you try and figure out what he meant. keen to know what he thought of you.

“go on, tell me.” you say, nodding towards him with a smirk on your face. “i'm a big girl, i won't get offended or anythin’.” you whisper.

he lets out a huff of amusement, thinking to himself before speaking. “it ain’ an insult.” he admits with a small grin, shifting to face you a little more. “you're jus’ very uh, sure of y’self.” he says, putting it as kindly as possible.

“and that isn't an insult?” you taunt, raising an eyebrow at his comment. feeling a sense of judgement from him.

“nah.” he frowns, exhaling out into the room. “i like it.” he says shamelessly, although it comes out in a murmur.

you hum in satisfaction. “so you flirt with every girl you talk to?” you tease, picking up on the way he spoke to any girl that sat with him.

he shrugs, a dry chuckle leaving his lips. “jus’ the pretty ones.” he reaches over, picking up his beer to take another swig.

“smooth.” you nod, your brows furrowing a little as you practically make fun of him for that line.

he shakes his head as he puts the beer back down. “nah, you can’t do that shit t’me.” he says, almost in disbelief.

“do what?” you laugh, acting like you didn’t know what he was talking about.

“ruin m’line like that.” he explains, his arm shifting to rest across the back of the couch.

“your line?” you question, raising your eyebrows. “oh that was a uh, line?” you mock, pointing towards him as you speak.

he scoffs, rubbing his temple with his other hand. then he looks up, taking a deep sigh as he processed your mocking.

he was so used to girls just melting at his words no matter what he said, but you were difficult – like flirting with you was just a challenge rather than essentially a way of manipulation.

“y’do this shit with every guy, or you jus’ bein’ difficult wit’ me?” he asks, genuinely wondering if every guy you’d slept with had to put up with your back talk before getting there.

you shrug, giving him absolutely nothing to work with just to wind him up. and it was working.

he scoffs, finding your attitude unbelievable. god forbid a woman not jump on him the first chance she got.

“i only make it easy for the guys i wanna sleep with.” you chime, taking a sip of your drink as the rejection settles over him.

he nods a little, holding onto his pride and dignity as you say that. “ouch.” he mumbles, somehow finding you funny even though you’d just rejected flirting with him.

usually if a girl wasn’t interested he would’ve left by now, not giving her another second of his attention. unless of course she was buying off him.

but there was something about you that drew him in, like he was convinced that you were just flirting with him and acting like you weren’t.

but you couldn’t help it, you flirted with everyone.

“explains how jack got y’into bed.” he retorts, insulting his friend in order to stay above the deep water of embarrassment. something he didn’t often feel.

“i think that just means i wanted to sleep with him.” you correct, bruising his ego once more.

he shakes his head, removing his arm from behind the couch to dig through his pockets, pulling out papers, tobacco and his weed wrapped in cling film.

you watch as he begins rolling a joint, clearly frustrated with your attitude.

“thought we got on the other day.” he mumbles, trying to make you feel bad for taking the piss out of him so much.

but then again, he could’ve left at any point, he didn’t have to take this shit from you.

and maybe it was the kett in his system making him less grumpy and easily annoyed, not his usual drug of choice. either that or he was still thinking he could score with you.

“we did.” you chirp, frowning slightly at the insinuation that you not wanting to fuck him meant you didn’t like him.

he gives you a look, shrugging slightly as he rolls his joint. “so the fuck you doin’ this shit for?” he grumbles, acting like the entitled prick he was.

“chris, is it so hard to comprehend that i’m not interested in you like that?” you ask, annoyed that he was really acting like you’d done something wrong, like you’d led him on or some shit.

he scoffs, not even looking your way as your harsh words graze him. of course he didn’t take it personally, but that’s not to say the bruise on his ego didn’t hurt.

“that’s bullshit.” he says under his breath, clearly you’d hit a nerve.

your face twists into confusion, his tone harsh and his comment childish. was he really gonna act like that just because you’d said no?

“you gon’ sleep with jack but not me? that’s some fucked up shit.” he mumbles, turning his head to give you a look. there was a hint of playfulness to it, like he was trying to keep it jokey, but you could see the slight annoyance in his expression.

your lips quirk up into a small, amused smile. “why’s that?” you ask softly, your voice low as a smirk appears on your face.

he scoffs as if it was a stupid question. “cos jack fucks f’shit.” his voice comes out in a small huff, his eyes focussed on the half rolled zoot on his lap.

“you speakin’ from experience?” you murmur, not able to help yourself from making that joke. you remain still as you speak, eyeing him from the side for his reaction.

his head quickly turns, giving you an unamused look, like he wasn’t even gonna entertain a stupid joke like that.

you on the other hand found yourself very funny, biting back an even bigger smile.

“not funny?” you taunt, your tongue darting into your cheek. he just glares at you, clearly bitter about the rejection and the gay joke.

“you really can't handle rejection.” you say in observation, of course making fun of him as you speak. he rolls his eyes, focussing on rolling his zoot, rather than your harsh words in his ear.

“don’ care ‘bout that.” he mutters, clearly more affected by the mocking that followed the rejection.

“okay, i'm sorry.” you sigh, almost sounding sincere. “no more gay jokes.” you mumble with a small smile, sipping your drink to hide it. he lets out a small huff, shaking his head. your relentless mocking was almost impressive – becoming borderline amusing to him at this point.

“y’know, you're quite annoyin’ – d’you ever get that?” he snaps, turning to face you. wanting to get under your skin in the way you were getting under his.

“i dooo, actually.” you hum, nodding along with his insult – his stupid comment making it very apparent how much you were annoying him.

“neva thought ‘bout doin’ somethin’ with that – y’know, like not being annoyin’?” he suggests, his eyes trained on the joint on his lap.

“i have considered it.” you respond, keeping up your sarcastic attitude. he scoffs when you don't say anything else, hiding his annoyance behind an amused smile.

“should consider' it a lil’ more.” he murmurs, making a big point of his ‘constructive’ criticism. you hum, watching him lick down the paper. “y’know what, i just might.” you speak slowly. “now that you've suggested it.” you frown – tone etched in sarcasm.

his jaw clenches a little at your sarcastic response, finding it unbearable. “you’re a reeeal fuckin’ piece of work.” he mutters, frustration bubbling over from your snappy responses. his ability to keep up and not look stupid faltering, quickly.

you only find that amusing, riling him up bringing out another level of mocking in you. of course it's rich coming from him – chris wasn't exactly a nice guy.

before you can respond with another snarky response, the girl from before returns – clearly fucked out of her mind as she slurs something towards him.

he looks up at her with a deadpan expression, clearly still frustrated from his conversation with you.

she leans over, almost topoling over as her hand grips the back of the sofa. “your skirts a little twisted babe.” you mumble, already reaching over to fix it for her.

her reaction lags, watching as you pull it straight. “thanks giiiirl.” she giggles, before beginning to drunkenly ramble about how ‘embarrassed’ she was – much to chris’ dismay as he focuses on lighting the joint.

you don't really listen, her words more directed to chris rather than you anyway. you take that as your queue to leave, standing.

chris finally looks up, watching as you stand to leave. “oh, hope i didn't interrupt anything.” she slurs, her words clearly not sincere – not that you gave a shit what she was mumbling about.

you smile sweetly, fixing your own dress as you speak. “no, no, you're good. sit with him.” you tell her over the loud music, gently patting her hip in a soft manner.

she smiles, mumbling something else before taking a seat on the couch – her legs draping over chris’ lap as she drunkenly sits. you catch a glimpse of chris, his expression still hard.

but he's watching you, paying no mind to the girl now on his lap as his eyes follow your form – watching you walk away. that stern look not budging.

꒰ notes ꒱ building the foundation for this au 😝. get excited gang, I have a lot planned !!

꒰ taglist ꒱ @iizzyyy @sophsturns @strnilolover @sturniolossss @hearts4sturniolo @emely9274 @dominicfikeenthusiast @m6lancholiaa @dylansfavwife @conspiracy-ash @chrattsbestgirl @harrystylestigertattoo @radiohead722 @urnumberonefangirl @chaossturns @sturnina @nickgurl4life @mattsgirlxoxo @iloveduckssm

©sturnsrecord

#[—sturnsrecord .ᐟ]#[ʚfratboy!chrisɞ]#[ʚconfident!readerɞ]#chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo

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nightplvmes · 1 day ago

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*.⊹˚ ZAYNE | christmas eve (christmas special)

── ◜zayne x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.1k words ◜Zayne has to work on Christmas, so she decides to surprise him with their little Christmas dinner. — author's note here | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile

She hated that Zayne worked so much without resting, but if there was one thing she hated more than that, it was he had to work on Christmas Eve. It was her first Christmas with a boyfriend and her boyfriend had to work.

According to Zayne, those days were actually pretty busy. People were slipping off the roofs while putting up decorations or having accidents while making dinner. She didn't say anything when Zayne told her he had to work, she should actually be proud that her boyfriend is saving lives! But while her boyfriend was saving lives, she was home alone… a little sad. She had actually lied to Zayne, saying she had plans with her friends because didn't want him to worry about her.

She had to do something, mainly because she didn't want her boyfriend to spend Christmas Eve alone in a hospital room… That's why almost two hours later she found herself leaving her apartment, a small bag at her side as she got into her car.

The ride to the hospital was smooth and quick, she expected there to be more cars on the streets, but it was the opposite. She confirmed her suspicions when she passed by the waiting room later: there were barely three people. She knew the reason Zayne was there that day was as a precaution, but why couldn't they just ask another doctor to stay? She was being selfish perhaps.

"Zayne?" She knocked on his office door, looked over her shoulder but the hallway was completely empty. She had passed the surgery board on her way there and Zayne's name wasn't there. Maybe he was with another patie…

The door in front of her opened. Her face lit up as she saw her boyfriend with his brow slightly furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing here?" he asked with that softness in his voice he always used with her.

"I brought Christmas dinner." She smiled lifting the small bag in her hands, Zayne let her in seconds later, still a little confused.

"I thought you had plans with your friends."

"Yeah, well… I lied." She smiled shyly, not wanting him to get upset with her even though Zayne seemed to lose his patience… never. "I thought we could have dinner together."

Zayne was silent for several seconds. He knew his girlfriend had preferred not to mention anything and let him work, she did that all the time lately, but she was here anyway. She had cooked something for both of them and now she was here, giving up any last-minute plans she might have made to spend time with him on Christmas.

"You didn't have to do that." Zayne approached her, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. She smiled slightly and shook her head, not wanting him to feel guilty.

"I don't mind. Let's eat." She placed one last kiss on his cheek before turning to start unpacking the food she had made for them.

She didn't mind the fact that she had to be there. After all, it was Christmas Eve, they could spend the day together tomorrow, right?

★

Over an hour later, she plopped down into the chair in front of Zayne's desk. She felt like she had eaten too much and now she couldn't move.

"Mmm… I think I'll take a nap on your couch" she whined, shifting in her seat. Zayne smiled at his girlfriend's exaggeration.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist, he knew she hadn't noticed but it was almost midnight. He knew she wasn't the biggest fan of Christmas but at least it was important enough as anyone else.

Zayne's hand slid down to one of his desk drawers to pull out the small box he had been hiding for almost two weeks. His girlfriend was too focused on complaining to notice. He hid it in one of his pants pockets and continued acting normally, clearing his throat to get her attention and getting up from his chair.

"Come on, it's almost midnight." She stood up quickly at his words and looked around for a clock. She hadn't even noticed the time, she only knew that her stomach was starting to hurt a little.

"Where are we going?" She asked, reaching over to grab her jacket. Maybe it had been a bad idea to wear such a thin jacket.

"Let's go to the roof," he murmured, wrapping one of his arms around her waist. He knew how much his girlfriend loved the snow and he didn't want midnight to arrive locked in the four walls of his office where she spent most of her lunch breaks anyway.

Five minutes later she felt the cold air hit her face, she had to narrowed her eyes. Zayne took one of her hands and directed her close to the edge, causing snowflakes to begin shower her hair.

She smiled excitedly. She loved the snow and even though she was sure she would start shivering in a couple of minutes, she loved the feeling of the cold against her face and the snowflakes in her hair.

"What time is it?" She asked turning to face Zayne and looked at the watch on his wrist once more.

"11:59."

She smiled excitedly. Her hand slipped into her jacket pocket to pull out a small mistletoe she had brought from home. She had almost forgotten it was there.

She smiled as she tried to stand on her tiptoes to put the mistletoe under both of their heads, but Zayne was quite a bit taller than her so she could barely do it. Zayne smiled when he noticed what his girlfriend was doing, he didn't need an excuse to kiss her anyway.

"Where did you get that?"

"I brought it from home." She shrugged. "Now you have to kiss me." She didn't have to tell him twice.

His arms wrapped around her gently, closing the small distance between them. She had suddenly forgotten all about the cold she had felt when they had reached the rooftop.

Zayne pressed his lips to hers without thinking, He deepened the kiss, holding her more closely to his body. He took the time to enjoy the warmth of his girlfriend, the way she let him explore her mouth… As if they had all the time in the world.

A loud bang in the distance separated them. She frowned, somewhat confused, she was expecting fireworks on New Year's but certainly not on Christmas. Bright colors flooded the sky for a few seconds before fading away. It was Christmas.

She turned excitedly, her nose had turned red due to the cold and her hair was now covered in snowflakes. The most adorable picture Zayne had ever seen.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne."

"Merry Christmas, my love."

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ladyloveandjustice · 2 days ago

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so like I saw this entire argument for the first time when someone reblogged this post a few weeks ago, and was like "well it was two years ago, it's cleary a reach but i'm not that invested, they clearly just REALLY want to yell about this issue of Batgirl rather than go with the most obvious interpretation that was clearly intended, whatever, it's fine" (If they had Jordanna bring up "are you poor" after Steph talked about "her own issues" it is supposed to imply she was poor, whether Steph answers or not (and why would she answer that), otherwise why would the comic bring it up, it's not deep)

but then i was looking at one of my old amvs and

Stephanie's house looks kind of rough there. Yet this was a flashback? No earthquake?

man looks rough there too and this was way before the earthquake. weird that doing-well middle class people wouldn't repair a cracked wall and window.

As I said, that there are plenty of other comics that show Stephanie's house looking run down, this is exhibit A that I just happened to run across. I didn't really have the energy to actually look but turns out I didn't have to.

Steph's dad put the family in a financial hole. That is stated in this very comic. "Using all their money" every time he comes back means a bunch of stuff will pile up and you have to dig yourself out of it. Including the house being in disrepair. In-universe, it's only been like what, a year? less? since the last time he did that in most comics she's in. People don't just automatically recover from that. And that was most of Steph's childhood, Arthur doing that. This is a comic where "we have financial issues" is directly bought up. Steph's Mom likely has very little savings.

That's all I say. Comics are inconsistent. The writers are not as thoughtful about finances as the fans sometimes. It's often hard to nail down a single interpretation. But people think Steph has financial issues because there's more than one comic where her house looks rough, because it's directly stated, it's not out of nowhere.

Like I said, not super invested, I'm not going to say else anything past this post. Steph isn't obviously in danger of being thrown out on the streets, there's miles of difference between her and someone who was literally homeless like Jason, but "struggling" isn't a reach. It's been accepted as a fact for 15 years, since the first time I got into comics, with every fan I talked to, and this is the first time I've seen it so hotly contested, even by people who were following my series of scans on scans_daily (liking it or disliking it), having bits from almost every comic Steph was in right in front of them.

(OH. oh. You don't like Stephanie. that explains the amount of passion here that was confusing for me, I didn't understand why it seemed you were so invested in refuting this. it's like a moral thing now whether she's poor? or a 'financially-concious middle class white girl" is that why white was bought up despite not being relevant to the current conversation about finances? or something? idk what's going on in fandom anymore. anyway.)

If you ever have the time/interest, would you break down the canon surrounding Stephanie’s economic circumstances/home life? It seems like a lot of people have chosen to take it a specific way so I’d love to see your reasoning

Sure. Thanks for asking, it’s honestly a fun topic.

Y’know it’s funny—I actually happen to own something that I think most people, even most Steph fans, haven’t seen: Steph’s first appearance. Not her Robin first appearance, her Detective Comics first appearance, her actual introduction. I happened to pick them up by accident at a con a few years ago because they’re also some of Tim’s first cover appearances.

Other people might disagree with me on this, but I like to go back to the characters’ origins whenever I can to find the baseline of what they were originally intended to be and try to bring later interpretations in line with that. I like to think of retcons as new revelations, new plot twists in an ongoing story, and not a way to reset aspects of the past just to fit your story. It works especially well for this because Steph’s socio-economic status doesn’t actually change, there’s just kind of a game of telephone that happens across the decades that leads people to misunderstand.

One thing worth noting in these early issues is just how much Steph, a 16-year-old girl, has at her disposal before she ever even glimpses Batman and Robin. Literally the first shot we ever see of the Spoiler is this:

And because I am, in fact, that kind of nerd, I have gone in a couple of times and dug out old era-appropriate electronics magazines to figure out what that piece of equipment would cost you in 1992. Baseline for a parabolic microphone is $600, and that price is for much larger, more delicate pieces of equipment meant to be used for like, outdoor nature shoots, which wouldn’t be able to hear through glass. Steph probably dropped $1,000 on that microphone alone.

Remember also that her costume is homemade—she doesn’t have any other way of getting it. She’s also shown using some pretty elaborate climbing and painting gear, with no indication that they were stolen or borrowed or anything, and you can see that she’s got a pretty well-stocked utility belt there.

Again, for some reason people tend to forget or overlook this but, right up until she demanded Bruce make her Robin, Steph operated as Spoiler with zero Bat support. She got some hand-to-hand training from Cass late in the game and tagged along on some of Tim’s assignments, but was otherwise being actively discouraged from vigilantism for most of her career. She made her own costume, bought her own equipment, and maintained her own motorcycle, all without the financial support of either Batman or her parents.

So right off the bat we know she’s a teenage girl with a not-insignificant amount of personal disposable income, the only hinted source of which is the implication she works a part-time job somewhere—which I don’t think is ever brought up again when she reappears in Robin.

We all know minimum wage went further in 1992 than it does now, but it didn’t go that much further. So it’s reasonable to assume that Steph has access to at least some money from her parents to support her vigilante habit, whether that’s in the form of an allowance, gifts that she carefully manages between Christmas and birthdays, or money that she’s able to just, take from Crystal without her noticing.

But this page is more important to our current interests because it’s also when we see Steph’s neighborhood for the first time. We’re told here that Steph and her mother (who is called Mrs. Agnes Bellinger in this comic, although it’s possible she was using a fake name to visit her ex in prison) live in what is described as “115 South Holden Street, in Manchester.”

Now keep in mind, the Gotham City map can be extremely fluid and tends to change depending on the needs of the story. But there have been attempts to map it, and “Manchester” has never been on any of those maps, so we have to do some extrapolation. At the very least, we can tell the neighborhood is clearly not in the city, given the very deliberate angle there in the first panel to show that they’re well away from the crowded downtown Gotham skyline.

This implies that Manchester is intended to be one of the mainland suburbs that feeds the island city of Gotham, similar to Bristol Township where the Wayne and Drake Manors are located. It’s not nearly as nice a neighborhood as Bristol—note the fenced-in front lawns, the broken shutters on the neighboring houses, and the vaguely racist lawn ornament on the Brown’s property—but it’s also not some rundown slum. People aren’t afraid to let kids play in their front yards or leave their garage doors standing open. And you’ll note those aren’t trailers, either, they’re decently-sized suburban homes.

Also worth noting: Crystal seems to keep this house perfectly fine on her own as a single mother. Arthur doesn’t live with them; when he’s shown having residences it tends to be apartments in the city by himself, and it’s not like he could support them from prison or with his ill-gotten criminal gains. And yet, we don’t see Steph or Crystal worrying at all about bills or mortgages or anything like that throughout any of their appearances. We see the interior of their house on several occasions and, while it’s often messy, it’s not in disrepair or neglect.

This is a constant portrayal throughout all of Steph’s appearances, from Robin through even her run as Batgirl. So, with that in mind, where does the idea that Steph is poor come from? Well, I’ve got a couple of theories.

One is the usual comics fandom problem: canon is huge, nobody can keep up with all of it, and some people go out of their way to be assholes about it, so misinformation gets spread like wildfire, in no small part because Steph is a character that a lot of people use as a self-insert and therefore she must be the misunderstood underdog in all things.

But on the more-interesting-to-talk-about front… I don’t think it’s controversial to say that Steph’s first big storyline was her pregnancy. Yeah? Like, it’s the first story involving her that really started getting critical attention. Whether it deserves that attention is more open to debate—personally, since reading Icon & Rocket for the first time, I’ve come to view it as Dixon pulling the comic book equivalent of white guys repackaging black music and watering it down—but the important thing right now is that it’s the first time people would’ve been specifically reading the Robin comics for Stephanie Brown. And in those comics, Steph’s house is shown as visibly run-down, covered in cracks and disrepair.

Thing is, there’s a context that people miss if you’re reading for the baby storyline and nothing else: this storyline plays out over the last days of “Aftershock” and early months of “No Man’s Land,” the storyline where Gotham is racked by a destructive earthquake that nearly levels the city and is abandoned by the federal government.

Again, we get the reinforced confirmation that Steph’s house isn’t actually in Gotham because it’s not destroyed in the quake—the neighborhood is damaged and briefly evacuated due to a gas line rupture in the immediate aftermath, but once that’s cleared up they’re free to return home, and their suburb is not part of the federal government’s evacuation. Nearly every building in Gotham is shown with similar damage during this time, including Drake Manor.

This storyline also plays into, I think, the stereotypes that people jump on when it comes to Steph’s socioeconomic status. Like I’ve mentioned before: Arthur is a criminal, Crystal is a drug addict, and Steph is a teen mom. Therefore, they must be poor, right? Because good middle class families supposedly don’t have those kinds of problems.

But, as I’ve mentioned before, that’s an inaccurate stereotype that ignores reality: plenty of drug addicts, criminals and teen moms live in the suburbs. And the Browns’ specific circumstances are distinctly atypical of the stereotype—Arthur’s not some down-on-his-luck thief pushed to crime by economic hardship, he’s an arrogant former gameshow host who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else and resents the world for not handing him the success he feels entitled to. Crystal’s not some crack addict, she’s a working nurse who used to get her doctor friends to write her scripts for prescription painkillers. And Steph is just a teenage girl who slept with a boy and got pregnant, with the costs of prenatal care and/or childrearing never seeming to be a factor in her decision to bring the child to term and give it up for adoption.

I could go on but that’s pretty much the long and short of it: Steph is simply not shown as being poor in the comics. Ever. She’s not rich, she does clearly rely on her fists much more than any gadgets or fancy gear and lives with her mother rather than moving out on her own for college, but she’s also never shown worrying about student loans and can apparently pay for all her classes with some government assistance and a part-time job alone.

People just assume that she’s poor because they’re misinformed, or they’re projecting, or they’ve got biases they haven’t examined, or they need her to be an underdog to justify their argument against one of the other characters, or they really want her to be buddy-buds with Jason for some reason.

Or, y’know, they just don’t want to acknowledge that they’re rooting for a middle-class white girl from the suburbs who commutes into the inner city to pick fights for fun.

#stephanie brown #dc comics #there is something weirdly funny about seeing stephanie brown critical tag lmao #imagine if we'd had that like what #fifteen years ago in scans_daily when people argued “that bitch should stay dead” with me #(hashtag stephanie brown critical)

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sanguineterrain · 2 days ago

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Sanne on the topic of femjay... do u think she'd like giving gifts? I feel like she's the type to shower u in gifts and act like it's nbd she didn't even think about it when she got it for u (she is lying)

ok anon I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant buuut it's kinda related? anyway i was inspired so please enjoy awkward arkham knight femjay who doesn't know how to interact with her old best friend/girlfriend when she returns from the dead so she starts leaving gifts instead. i ❤️ my weirdo wife

ak!female!jason todd x fem!reader.

****

Someone has been leaving you presents.

Normally, you'd be freaked out. Probably, you should be freaked out anyway. How someone knows your exact dress size and what chocolate you like and your favorite flowers and your birthstone... well, it would scare anyone.

But. But the thing is. Every gift and every placement of the gift feels very familiar. It feels like the habit of an old love. Because she used to do the same. Pretty rocks or flowers found on patrol. A t-shirt for the band you liked. A kiss.

It feels like training, like muscle memory: here is how to break in without breaking anything. Here is how to leave a scene undisturbed. Lessons that a friend shared with you.

A friend you loved. A friend you mourned.

The dresses are beautiful and certainly not cheap. But they have a familiarity to their design. They're extravagant, fairytale dresses that you dreamt of wearing when you were young. Dresses you have no reason to wear now.

They aren't revealing or risqué either, and that comforts you too, even though it probably shouldn't. Bruce would be upset at your lack of self-preservation.

This is you living in the past. This is hoping for the impossible.

The jewelry is also beautiful and nothing you could wear to work or to a grocery trip. It's all necklaces and bracelets heavy with diamonds or emeralds or sapphires. But there's a single ruby ring you've received, and it's plainer than everything else. You wear that regularly, even though that definitely encourages your admiring stalker.

The gift-giving is random but they never go more than two weeks without a visit. And there's no note, no demand, nothing. It's like you have an invisible pet raven who likes bringing you trinkets that cost more than your rent.

After the seventh gift, you plan a trap. You want to face this admirer, show that you're not afraid. Well, you're a little afraid. Mostly, it's fear at the fact that you haven't called the police or Batman, even though you and Batman haven't been simpatico for a long time.

No, something stops you. The hand that leaves your gifts is a hand you know. You're certain of it.

You set up a camera behind your shuttered closet, then leave for the day.

You return to the camera gone and a beautiful gold carved statue of a dove. And a note.

Not yet.

Well, fine. You can wait. You're mad because that camera wasn't cheap, but you can wait.

Weeks pass. Gifts arrive. You make a batch of cookies as a thank you on one occasion. Three cookies are missing when you come home. You smile.

Then the night comes.

You don't know how you know it's the night you'll meet them. You just have a feeling. You've written them notes, certain they've been received. No notes have arrived for you besides the one from all those weeks ago.

You put on one of the dresses, a delicate, frilly blue creation that shows your shoulders and neck. You finish it with the sapphire necklace, one of the first gifts you received.

She slips in through your window and freezes when she sees you, even though you know she timed it so you'd be home when she came.

"Hi," you say.

She doesn't speak. She approaches you slowly, carefully. She's very tall, very muscular. Her face is covered with an intricate helmet and she wears similar armor on her body. A new hero in Gotham? Or a villain?

"Do I know you?" you ask.

She shakes her head. You study her for a moment. Glowing eyes stare back. You can't tell if she's lying. It seems like she means it: you don't know her.

"But you know me?"

Your admirer hesitates. Then she nods.

You close the distance until you're a foot apart. Her breathing remains steady but her fingers are restless.

"I like the gifts," you say. "Though I'm confused why you're giving them to me."

Her fingers still. She says nothing.

"A friend used to give me gifts too," you say quietly.

You're both startled. Why did you say that? You don't know.

"You don't want to hurt me," you say.

She shakes her head fiercely.

Suddenly, you want her to touch you. You lift your head and expose your neck. You can tell she's tracking the movement. It sends a thrill down your spine. Maybe something's wrong with both of you.

"Do you like your necklace on me?" you ask.

Touch it. Touch me. Prove you aren't a ghost.

You hear her swallow and inhale shakily. She reaches for you and lightly touches the gold chain around your neck with one gloved finger. You close your eyes. A name falls from your lips. God, you miss her.

The window creaks. You open your eyes. She is gone.

#jason todd x reader #female jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight jason todd #1st time writing ak so *gestures vaguely*#blurb #inbox

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cjlouwho · 3 days ago

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Twelve Christmases

Chapter tags: Michael returns, implied homophobia

read below or on ao3

Day 8: 2017

Tommy hadn't stepped foot in his hometown in fifteen years.

And when he did return home, he hadn't planned on saying much.

He planned on sitting back and watching his father be a disaster with his new family.

A stepmother of eight years that he'd never met.

A stepsister and two stepbrothers he couldn't tell you the names of.

Step nieces and nephews and cousins. Tons of people for his dad to embarrass himself in front of on Christmas day.

What he didn't expect was for them to all be so damn happy.

His stepmom, Tina, laughing and giggling with Michael by her side.

His step siblings giving him a hug.

The kids all running to him, calling him grandpa.

Not a bottle of beer in sight.

It filled Tommy with a rage he hadn't felt in years.

And it caused him to blurt out the one thing he'd only just been able to admit to himself a few months earlier.

“I'm gay.”

The room fell silent, everyone gathered at the table for Christmas dinner. All eyes were on Tommy as he stared down his dad as though he were daring him to react.

The seconds ticking by felt like hours.

“Hm,” Michael finally breathed out. He picked his fork up, motioning around the table. “Come on now, let's eat, food's gettin' cold.”

The silence faded away with the sounds of utensils clanging on dishes, and whispered conversations picking up between guests.

Tommy continued to watch his dad, who was smiling over at Tina as they spoke to one another.

“Hey, congrats,” one of Tommy's stepbrothers (Sam, he thinks), leaned over and said to him.

“Are you congratulating me for being gay?” Tommy deadpanned.

“No, just for like, coming out or whatever. I know- or, well, I've heard- that it's like, ya know, tough and stuff.”

Tommy had to fight back every retort that was popping into his brain. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It's real tough and stuff.”

Then Sam (or is it Jim? Henry? Steve?) reached out and patted his shoulder. “Proud of you, Bro.”

Tommy wished his eyes were laser beams that he could use to shoot directly at the hand Sam-Jim-Henry-Steve touched him with.

Instead, he plastered on a smile. “Thanks.”

*****

They didn't get another chance to speak until everyone else had left. Tina went to get a shower and Tommy found himself in the living room with his dad.

“So?” he started, not bothering to sit. “What have you been holding in?”

Michael, who had been focused on the TV, muted it before turning to look over at Tommy. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“There it is.”

“You don't come around for fifteen damn years and when you finally do, you act like an ass all day long. We sit down for a nice dinner and you say something like that?” he shook his head. “I don't even know what to think of you.”

“I wasn't acting like an ass all day,” Tommy defended. “I've been so unbelievably confused by whatever game you've been playing! Who the hell even are you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I have never, not once, seen you sober on Christmas. Hell, I never really saw you on Christmas at all. When I did, it was a nightmare! You certainly weren't picking me up and spinning me around like you did those kids today. It's all some weird ass show you're putting on.”

“Hey!” Michael stood, standing face to face with his son. “It is not a show. I love that woman and all the people that come with her!”

“So that's what this is? You just never loved mom? Or me?”

“Your mom was weak, Tommy! She didn't know what I needed.”

“No, that was the problem!” Tommy yelled, poking at Michael's chest, “She was only ever here for what you needed!”

Michael smacked Tommy's hand away. “We're not talking about this right now. We're gonna talk about that- that lie you told at dinner just to try and upset me.”

Tommy stood up straight, his heart pounding. “It's not a lie. I'm gay.”

“No, you're not.”

“I think I'd know a little better than you.”

“I will not...” Michael's voice trailed off as he breathed heavily through his nose. Tommy was pretty sure fire would be coming out if that were possible.

“What?” Tommy taunted. “You will not what?”

“I want you out of my house,” Michael said, teeth gritted together. “I don't need you around my family.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “Around your family? What am I then, Dad?”

“An embarrassment!” Michael screamed, no hesitation.

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding. “Now that's the dad I know,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “I'll get my stuff, leave tonight.”

As he left the living room and headed down the hall, he stopped when he saw Tina standing in the doorway of the main bedroom. It was just like his mom used to do all those years ago.

“Tommy,” she said, her voice quiet, sad. “You don't have to go tonight. You can stay.”

Tommy shook his head. “No, I'm not gonna stay. Thank you though.”

He continued toward his childhood bedroom to grab his things. He'd never really unpacked anyway.

“I didn't know,” she said, stopping him again. He turned back to her. “I've never heard him like that before.”

He smiled at her sadly. “It's okay,” he assured her. “I have.”

#bucktommy #911 #911 abc #tommy kinard #twelve days of tommy #day 8

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confiaenanaa · 3 days ago

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Hello,how are you? I saw your post asking for fic ideas so here's one I hope you like it

Assistant reader who has worked with Eminem since the beginning of his career, the public and his kids love her, the kids always goes to her for advice and see her as part of the family . Marshall admires her and her relationship with his kids, He has always been attracted to her, but he respects her a lot and thinks she can find someone better, They are very close and know each other like no one else. They have fight a few times but she would always go to him and put some sense into his head and they would make up. Maybe she could have an accident or become very ill and end up in the hospital, he is terrified at the prospect of losing her. They get so stressed about the situation that they have a very serious fight, he says a lot of shit and she sends him away. A few days pass and they don't talk to each other, he didn't want to apologize and decided to wait until she came back and fix the things like she always did, but the things he said during the fight really hurt her and she decided to resign from her assistant position, she sent an email with the details of her contract termination.

You decide what happens next.

PS: I really loved your writing, sorry for the long request, I like to detail things, if you don't like the idea or don't feel comfortable writing this you can completely ignore it please.

Hugs and bye (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

my assistant - eminem

fem!y/n x Marshall Mathers

masterlist

synopsis: Y/N is Marshall's assistant. They're close and best friends until something goes wrong in her life...

A/N: hi! I know it's been a while, i've been super stressed with finals and stuff but i'm finally back on track and I wrote this. there's more to come since I have a ton of requests to have fun with! hope you enjoy this one. and i'm so glad to hear you liked my writing!

-Marsh!

-What?!

-Dre’s on the phone for you! Something about needing you to re-record something!

Marshall groaned from his office. Y/N giggled at his antics, he really could be a grump at times. She continued to put away files and work on his busy schedule, something she’d done every day for years.

Y/N had been Marshall’s assistant since what felt like forever, and it sort of was. Ever since his career took off, she’d been by his side. She did her job well, and never gave anyone on the team any reason to doubt her abilities. Not to mention she was always the go-to for advice. Marshall was always asking for advice; situations big or small, his mind always went to call Y/N. And his kids did the same. And his friends. And his team.

The public always wondered about their relationship, about what happened behind closed doors. “She and I are just close friends. That’s all.” And truthfully, that was all there was to it. They were friends. Though he’d often find himself wondering and daydreaming about what it’d feel like if they were more, he always stopped himself before it could get any deeper. He knew she deserved better. She was smart, kind, and hilarious. Surely, she’d find another man more attractive and muscular and smarter and funnier. Surely, she wouldn’t want a man like him. But, in actuality, they were both stuck in a cycle of feeling this way. She felt he deserved someone who related to him more. Someone prettier, someone more famous. Why would he want an accountant when he could easily have a bombshell?

Everyone around them knew how they felt about each other, except, apparently, them. They knew each other inside and out. Marshall knew all of her nervous tics; like her lip biting, finger picking, leg bouncing, pen tapping, and arm crossing. And, in return, she knew all of his icks; loud chewing, gum popping, loud singing, loud speaking, fingernail tapping, and slurping. They could read one another like books, unless, of course, it came to romance.

Y/N had been to enough family dinners at his house to know this. She was basically a Mathers herself. She became a Mathers when Hailie got her first period and Marshall had no clue on what to do. When she told him what to buy at the supermarket while she washed Hailie’s bed sheets and clothes. When she helped Hailie with her first breakup. And she became a Mathers when Marshall started his journey with sobriety and she was with him the whole time. Marshall admired her greatly. He admired her bravery and courage, her kindness and empathy, her ambition and perseverance, it seemed like everything life threw at her, she could easily push past it. He respected her a lot. He also respected how much a perfectionist she was. She made sure her nails were properly painted and if not they looked well groomed; cuticles always cut, nails long and strong, filed to perfection. Her hair was done meticulously, clearly also well taken care of. Her skin had a light glow to it. Marshall admired this for years. He admired and respected every aspect about her, she was like family to him.

However, like friends and family do, there were always a few quarrels. When Y/N was on her period and already in a sour mood, and Marshall decided that would be a good day to be a brat and complain about everything. Y/N adored him, but he could be really childish at times. He whined one too many times and she’d snapped at him. It escalated into an argument that Dre had to promptly break up. Or when Marshall was upset because he had writer's block and Y/N asked if it was really that hard to write a song. He snapped at her too. But, in the end, they always made up. In all honesty, it was usually Y/N that would fix things. She’d go over to him and no matter who was right or wrong, she’d say it was silly and smack him upside the head for staying upset.

The symptoms started mild. A bit of dizziness and fatigue. Walking up the stairs got harder, standing up suddenly quickly became a threat. Marshall and the others had noticed it, but decided not to mention anything. Health business is private business. Then, she started getting weaker. She was fatigued after just walking from the office back to her desk. She got pale. She no longer had that glow to her. Hailie asked Marshall what was wrong, but even he didn’t know.

She was always short of breath. When she talked, she occasionally slurred her words. She’d stumble through the hallway, just trying to make it back to her desk. This went on for months. In the beginning, Marshall took the pallor and fatigue as stress and exhaustion from work. He no longer complained, instead taking on some of her duties in an attempt to alleviate her. He saw nothing changed, in fact, it only worsened.

She started having heart palpitations. They became more frequent as the weeks flew by. When she’d hug her friends or set a hand down on someone’s arm, they’d notice that they were cold as ice. Her nails, something she once cared for, were now brittle. Her hair, once shiny and well put together, was now thinning and falling like a withering tree in the fall.

Almost a year had passed since the symptoms started. It was a somewhat normal day in the studio. Y/N walked in with Marshall’s weekly schedule in hand. Today, the windows weren’t coated with curtains like they usually were. Today, Marshall saw Y/N in the natural light. He noticed how pale she’d become. How her hair was now messy and thinned. How she looked almost malnourished.

He loved her the same, but he was concerned. He asked her to sit beside him on the couch, looking towards the others in the studio. Certainly the others had to have noticed her dire state. She sat carefully, moving slowly in an attempt to not exhaust herself too much. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion. Why was everyone looking at her like that?

She sat there for a while, when she realized she needed to finish a document for Paul.

-Shit!

-What? What’s wrong?

-I need to finish that paper for Paul. I’ll see you guys later.

Y/N stood up madly. Suddenly, she felt her body numb slightly and her eyes roll into the back of her head. She felt dizzy and everything around her felt surreal. She attempted to take a step forward, but instead, her entire body fell forward. Next thing she knew, it all went black.

Marshall saw her stand up. She looked like she was going to hurl. She fell forward and with a thud, she hit the carpeted floor. Everyone in the room ran to her. There was a bustle of voices. Pandemonium broke out. Someone called an ambulance. Marshall couldn’t remember much, but what he did know was that now he was sitting in a hospital lobby. Awaiting any news about his best friend.

The realization settled in. The panic came along with it. He realized that his best friend (and sort of the love of his life) was in a hospital bed right now, unsure of whether or not she’ll make it out of here. He knew he couldn’t lose her.

-It’s anemia. Her case was pretty severe, since it was left untreated for 11 months. She had an iron deficiency, most likely from not eating properly. It could’ve become deadly if she’d left it untreated for too long.

-Anemia?

Marshall couldn’t believe it. All of the signs were there and he never did anything about it. As soon as they let him know she was conscious, he ran into the room. He saw her in the bed and felt a wave of emotions. He felt sad knowing that she was hurting, he felt happy that she was okay, and he felt rage that she let this get that bad and that he hadn’t noticed.

-Hey, Marsh.

-Hey. Did you know you had anemia?

-Wow. Straight to the point. Um, not specifically but, like, I knew there was something wrong.

Marshall started to become upset. How was she so casual about this? If anemia is left untreated, it can result in death.

-And you didn’t do anything about it?

-Well, no. I didn’t expect anything serious?

-The doctor told me that you could’ve died if you didn’t treat it. And he said it was because you weren’t eating. Why weren’t you eating?

-Look, Marsh, I just assumed that it would go away after a while. I didn’t even notice it had gotten that bad. And I mean, I haven’t really had an appetite. I’ve been working a lot and I just think I was stressed.

-Well, you should’ve told me you were feeling overworked! I could’ve helped you! You could’ve died Y/N! Doesn’t that go through your head!

-I’m sorry! I didn’t think it was that deep!

-Yeah? Well it was. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I came here thinking you got some crazy disease. I was so worried.

-I can’t control my appetite Marsh. And you didn’t have to come.

-Yeah, well, when you’re on your deathbed, alone, you’ll wish you might’ve listened to me.

Y/N’s mouth stayed slightly ajar after that last comment. How could he say that to her? He saw the look on her face and immediately regretted it. He knew he was doing wrong. He knew that it was a terrible thing to say.

-Look, Y/N, I’m so sor-

-Get out.

-What?

-Get out, Marsh. Leave.

And leave he did. He went home that day and had a long night of processing. He concluded that he had a point, but he should’ve phrased it better; he also should have picked a better time to say it. But he didn’t want to apologize. For some unknown reason, he couldn’t find it within himself to go to her and apologize. Eventually, a week had passed. He figured that she’d come to him soon and they’d make up. However, he was proven wrong when he received an email that Paul had forwarded him that morning. The title read “My Resignation”. He began to panic, calling her and sending her countless texts.

He then called Paul, hoping it was a mistake.

-Look, man. I don’t know what you said or did to her, but it must’ve been pretty fucked up. You better go apologize to her now.

Marshall quickly hopped into his car and drove to her house. He parked his car in her driveway, seeing she was home. He knocked on the door furiously, hoping to get ahold of her. She opened the door only a few inches. Enough to see his face. She was about to close the door when he pushed it open. She stumbled back a bit.

-What the hell do you want Marsh?

-Look, Y/N, I came to apologize. I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner. I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean any of the bullshit I said. I was just scared. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel bad. Especially since you were the one in the hospital bed. When I was the one in trouble, you never did any of that shit to me. I’m so sorry Y/N.

Y/N sighed deeply. As upset as she was with him, she couldn’t stay mad. She was starting to look like her old self again, Marshall realized. She got her glow back, her hair was looking thicker; she looked like she did before. Still a little thin, but back to somewhat normal.

Y/N smiled weakly. She knew she couldn’t be mad at him forever, and this was silly. Marshall looked at her face, smiling, and he realized just how much he loved her. He looked at every feature he’d fallen in love with; her eyes, bright and curious, her lips, pretty and cute, her cheeks, slightly indented with all the smiling she does, but still beautiful. He knew he needed her, and without thinking, he leaned down and connected his lips with hers. It was passionate and sweet. The kiss contained all the words that need not be spoken. When he pulled back, she was smiling like an idiot, wide eyed.

He knew that from then on, he would love her a little harder.

#masterlist #new writer boost #writers on tumblr #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #eminem #marshall mathers #dr dre #50 cent #eminem fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #one shot

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zaim8778 · 9 hours ago

Text

Fenton Crime Family

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Stephanie: So no one is gonna ask why Cass has been out so much lately? Alone too.

Duke: Didn't she say she is going out to meet a friend?

Stephanie: Yeah, but no one knows where she goes. We don't know who she goes out with nor do we know where she goes.

Tim: Just say that you are jealous that Cass is going out without you. No will make fun of you.

Jason & Duke: That's a lie.

Tim: Yeah, that's a lie. I would totally make fun of you.

Stephanie: Shut up nerd. Don't pretend you are not jealous when Bernard or Conner says that they are hanging out with someone else.

Tim: Woah there. Jason is the nerd one. If you want to insult me, at least use the correct one.

Jason: I want to be mad but you're not wrong.

Damian: Tt, why should we bother who Cain goes out with? It is her choice who she wishes to be her companion.

Stephanie: But aren't you curious even a little bit? Who is the person? Where do they go? Are they friends or something more? There are so many questions and yet so little answer.

Bruce: We should give Cass some room for herself. Letting her form a relationship outside of this household is also good.

Everyone: *Stares at Bruce*

Jason: I think the old man is being mind controlled. Let me punch him to wake him up.

Dick: Are you sick, B? Do you want to go to Dr. Leslie? I can take over your patrol tonight if you are not feeling well.

Damian: I also agree with Todd. Father might be compromised right now. Let's take him down.

Tim: Wait wait. Do you have anything to say before we jump you Bruce?

Bruce: *Grunts* I went to meet the therapist that Jason recommended to me. Dr. Fenton says that I should give my children room to grow independently so that I can take the first step in treating my paranoia.

Jason: *Gasp* You actually went to meet the therapist. Fuck.

Stephanie: He he he, where is my 50 bucks? I told you he would go if you recommend it.

Jason: *Grumble while handing out 50 bucks*

Duke: So that's where you are going. I thought you were going on a date.

Bruce: I am too old for dating anymore.

Dick: Yeah, right. Tell that to me when you go meet Selina later tonight.

Bruce: *Grunts*

Alfred: *Walks in* I am here to inform that Miss Cassandra has returned.

Dick: She's not gonna eat lunch?

Alfred: Miss Cassandra has informed me that she has eaten outside with her friend.

Jason: Did you see who her friend is? Is it a boy or a girl? Please tell me it's a boy.

Alfred: I'm afraid I cannot tell you anything as per my agreement with Miss Cassandra. What I can tell you though is that she is very happy to meet her friend. I suggest all of you don't disturb her happiness.

Stephanie: What? Boooo. I want answers. Timothy I choose you. Go find the answer using your stalker skills.

Tim: I would rather not anger her after what she did last time. All of my coffee mugs are still stuck on the table.

Duke: *Scoffs* You would probably go behind her back to find this friend anyway. You're just saying it in case Cass heard us.

Tim: I shall not confirm nor deny the accusation.

-Upstairs-

Cass lays on her bed after changing her clothes. It's been so long since she saw Danny. If not for the coincidental encounter at the stores, she wouldn't have known that Danny is in Gotham. After the first encounter, they exchanged phone numbers and talks and even met up often. Today is their first official date as a girlfriend/boyfriend.

Cass takes her phone to text Danny that she has reached home safely when she suddenly remembers something. She opens her gallery and puts the photos of her and Danny in a secure secret folder so that no one can find it.

While doing that, a text comes through.

Danny 💕💓💕

Danny: Hey Cass, are you home yet?

Cass: Yes. I just got home.

Danny: Thanks for the date today

Cass: 💖💖

Cass: Are you home yet?

Danny: Almost

Danny: Sorry gotta go. My sister is calling.

Cass: Get home fast. Love you 😘

Danny: I love you too 💖

Cass puts the phone on the bed and closes her eyes. Soon, she falls asleep and dreams of living in a large house with a lot of children running around.

-The Bowery, Gotham-

A young skinny man with black hair and blue eyes is walking down the quite alley slowly. He looks around him as the people of the Bowery look almost respectful but certainly fearful to him.

He sighs and leaves the sprawled bodies on the ground. They wouldn't die. He makes sure of that. A huge man comes within his proximity when suddenly the man bows down to him.

????: We are sorry, sir. These people are a new gang in the rise from the east. We get the news too late to send people to dispose of them.

Danny: Chill out, Jeff. Just take them to Dani and let her handle it. Also, tell her to return before dinner or else Jazz will come for her.

Jeff: Yes, sir.

The man along with a few of his henchmen pick the bodies and move them to somewhere else. To be honest, Jazz and Danny still don't know how to feel that their little sister is officially a crime lord.

All of them moved last month since Jazz gets her job at Arkham Asylum and Danny gets his internship at Wayne Enterprise. Dani tags along since she has explored all the places she wants to visit and she doesn't know what else to do.

Well that also didn't last long, as the first day they arrived at Gotham, Dani goes to beat up all the gang and goons in The Bowery and round them up into one single group. It's certainly easier that all the rouges are in Arkham right now.

One time the Falcon crime family tried to threaten Dani by taking Danny and Jazz hostage. In the end, Falcon and other crime families agree to stay out of The Bowery after Danny freezes all of their building and Dani strikes them with lightning multiple times.

Danny arrives home and sits on the couch. He scrolls Twitter while waiting for his sisters to return when the news catches his eyes.

Breakout at Arkham Asylum

All the people of Gotham are suggested to stay inside tonight.

Danny looks at the news with concern. Usually a breakout at Arkham happens a lot later in the day. He stands up, picks a leather jacket and a mask and then transforms into Phantom. He wears the mask and the jacket and flies towards Arkham Asylum to check out what happened. Today is Saturday so Jazz isn't working so he doesn't worry that much about Jazz.

On his way to Arkham, he encounters some rouge like The Riddler and Scarecrow. He knocks them out and hangs them on a poll and continues flying towards it. He's not a hero anymore but if the rogues are to enter and cause havoc in The Bowery, neither him, Jazz nor Ellie will be happy.

Suddenly, he sees a clown car speeding through the road at a very fast speed. Danny looks at it and sees the Joker along with his few goons are making a getaway while being chased down by a few cop cars. Danny flies down towards the clown car, and slowly unscrews the tyres of the car.

Danny flies back a little bit to the back and the clown car starts to wiggle and waggle and suddenly all of the tyres come off the car. Danny can hear the clown cursing heavily until finally they crash into a poll.He flies back down and just to make sure he is permanently down or at least down for some time, snap his back bone to incapacitate him.

Danny, still invisible, flies back up and continues on his way to Arkham. He meets a few more escapees like Mr. Freeze, Firefly and Killer Croc. Except for Killer Croc, all the other rouges are beaten up and sent back to Arkham. Killer Croc or Waylon is not thinking of causing trouble. He just wants to return to the sewer cause it is his home. Danny plans to maybe offer Waylon employment in their gang if he feels like Waylon is stable enough to work. Meanwhile, he will go around the city and beat up rogues that he is pretty sure is not going out to have a tea party.

When Danny lands on the roof, he opens his phone to see Cass is warning him to stay at home and not go outside. He smiles wryly since he is already outside and is beating up the rouges. Danny replies with a thumbs up and is about to continue flying when a shadow jumps out from behind him.

Danny: Uh, hello? How are you?

???: *Stares*

Danny: I'm no trouble. Just on the lookout just in case there is a rouge nearby. I see some guy beat up Scarecrow and The Riddler on my way here. They are not so scary when they don't have anything to use you know.

???: Where?

Danny: Errr, I think it is right over there. I was coming from that direction so you would probably see them if you go this way.

???: Thank you.

The shadow then vanishes and Danny is left standing there. The shadow really reminded him of Cass for some reason. Looking up online, apparently that one is called Black Bat.

Danny: Huh, they are out early today then. I guess they can work during the day.

Danny then turns invisible and returns back to the Bowery because most of the notorious rogues have been captured and Danny isn't worried about the rest.

#danny phantom #danny x cass #dead silent #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #cassandra cain #dc x dp #cass x danny

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reginyani · 1 day ago

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Late Night Case Files | s.reid x reader

you and Spencer find yourselves working late on some case files, and what starts off as a deep conversation ends in something more intimate.

category: fluff

cw: Y/N used, reader implied as a female, make out sesh (sorta), earlyseasons!spencer

wc: 811

note: please reblog if you enjoyed! reblogging is the only way to promote fics on tumblr :) this is pretty simple, but the ideas are not flowing recently💔

It was well past midnight when you and Spencer Reid found yourselves in a dimly lit conference room. Case files were scattered everywhere, but you both were too deep into this case to just take off and leave it for tomorrow. Coffee cups were carefully placed away from the stacks of papers, barely touched and cold.

Spencer looked up into the distance, muttering to himself while he processed new information. You watched him for a few moments, visibly seeing something click in his brain that hadn't before. He looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed. It was quite amusing, actually.

"Y/N, I think I've got it." He motioned with his hand for you to come over to his side. He held onto the file, letting you look at it for a moment before telling you. You looked at him, confused, still not understanding. He finally pointed at the paper, looking up at you. "Right here," his voice was quieter due to the darkness of the night. "This here is the connection we've all just looked over. We missed it, and there it was... in plain sight." He sighed.

You smile brightly, nodding at his connection to the case. "You're amazing, boy genius," you said softly, but not just about the case—just him in general. Spencer's usual distance from you, both emotionally and physically, was absent tonight. He was closer than normal, almost leaving no space between you two, like right now. You shifted slightly away from him, realizing how weird it was to be so close to him. It wasn’t normal.

He looked over at you, smiling at your compliment. "I'm just doing my job, Y/N." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, waiting for you to say something else.

"It's not just that, Reid. You see every little detail that others don't. It's truly something that you should give yourself more credit for." Spencer's lips parted slightly as you said this, like he was going to say something, but he hesitated. "What?" you asked.

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I've missed out on the most simple things." He looked down at the files scattered on the table again before looking back up at you. "Like... really connecting with people, you know?"

You were taken aback by this. This was Dr. Spencer Reid, a man who could crack cases in seconds, decode a serial killer’s mind without any issues! But something about the atmosphere of the dark night outside the windows, the late hour, and the rhythm you shared in the work you had just done made him feel... loose.

You met his eyes, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry, I've just never had the opportunity to talk about this stuff with anyone before. Not in any way that feels... real," he explained, causing you to automatically nod in his direction.

"You're not alone, Spencer. I think everyone struggles with that sometimes," you said, puckering your lips with empathy. You couldn't help it, the warmth spread throughout your body as you felt the connection between you two growing by the second.

He was standing in front of you, barely any space between you two. You soon began to notice this—it was hard not to. You both stared into each other's eyes, letting the tension grow heavier.

Spencer broke the silence, sounding almost breathless as he smiled at you. "Did you know," he began, putting a hand on your cheek and drawing you closer to him, "according to studies, kissing is actually safer than shaking hands?"

You raised an eyebrow in question. "Kissing? Really?" you asked, your heart beating rapidly. He didn't answer, instead slowly closing the gap between you both.

When your lips met, it was soft at first, like a question that you had to answer. You quickly answered it, pulling your hand up and resting it on his shoulder as you deepened the kiss. Your other hand found its way to his neck, holding onto it as you pulled him in closer.

You both eventually pull away, his hand still resting on your cheek, your breaths mingling between you two. You smiled, and he sent one back. Your breath started to calm, and he opened his mouth.

"Way safer than shaking hands..." he muttered, still breathless from the previous act.

You chuckled softly, looking into his eyes. "Well, I think I can take that as a compliment."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #spencer reid x reader

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best-seungkwality · 2 days ago

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breakfast for two (romantically!)

pairing: guitarist!band member!ellie williams x brother of band member! soft personality!female!reader

summary: ellie knew there were lines she wasn’t supposed to cross. but the way you blushed when she called you ‘babygirl’ made her want to toe every single one.

contains/warnings: college!au, you have a brother named harold, subtle but unspecific mention of trauma, suggestive towards the end

word count: 2.3k

author's yap notes: sue me i loved the k-drama kingdom bye. and yes here i am again with ellie williams IDK guys she's just hot and inspires me to write i just Have to take advantage of this. i'd write about my kpop boys but ,, i'm very wlw-coded the bisexual in me is not bisexualing.

would like to give credits for the dividers i think they're gna be permanent lmao: © saradika, magnusthemes here in tumblr!

'god, i'm such a kid,' ellie thought to herself as she fixed the crinkle in her flannel shirt. as usual, she felt a bit conscious of her appearance whenever she went to the house of her bandmate to practice for their upcoming gigs.

with one heavy breath, she brought her hands up and knocked gently on the door. it was really unlike her– she could care less about stupid harold's door, but she didn't.

once it opened to reveal his younger sister, all thoughts were wiped clean from her mind. suddenly, you were all she could think about, from how cute you looked in your pajamas, to how those fuzzy house slippers fit your soft and caring personality.

"hi, ellie," you greeted sweetly, and god, could she just melt right then and there. she wouldn't mind going to harold's every weekend if she could always have this kind of welcome.

"hey, doll," she greeted back, ruffling your already bad bedhair, earning a whine from you. "harry there?"

you nodded and let her in, immediately going in for a hug. if it were anyone else, she would've punched the living lights out of them for invading her personal space, but this was you. you could cozy up to her as much as you (and she) wanted.

"you should go down now, he'll be there in a bit, just changing clothes."

she put an arm around your shoulders and leaned her head onto yours. "i can spare a few minutes for my favorite girl."

"and if you don't take your arms off her, i'll spare a few minutes to body slam you on the ground."

ellie raised her hands and chuckled at your overprotective brother, who was rushing down and suddenly pushing her to the direction of the basement and away from you.

"call you later, princess!" ellie hollered playfully, getting a 'sure thing, baby!' in return, much to your brother's annoyance.

harry started with his usual monologue whenever he caught her flirting with you, be it in their home or school. he always went on about how you were his most precious baby sister who deserved everything nice the world could offer, and that you were off-limits until you graduated because your family only wanted the best for your future. he even said his parents could throw him in a ditch somewhere if it meant you achieved your dreams.

ellie raised an eyebrow at him, feeling that she was never going to completely get used to this kind of brotherly side of harold. she inched away from him and went to her spot, saying, "chill out, dude. one more sentence, and i'm gonna think you have a sis complex or something.."

harry's jaw dropped in disbelief. "how dare you, ellie," he whined, throwing an empty can of soda at her, to which she just laughed. he scoffed then turned serious, "you all know how she got to where she is now, right? i just wanna make sure..."

"yeah, totally, i get you, har," she cut him off, not wanting to make him explain any more. she knows it was hard to talk about the traumatic event his sister went through and his family had to overcome together.

"ellie's just being ellie, but you know we all care about y/n. don't worry, har," emma quipped from the corner as she was fine tuning her own instrument.

"yeah relax," she told him, "i'm just happy to be around her. i like the influence she has on me. i'd take care of her the way i want to, but i won't cross the line without your go signal, harry." she showed him a thumbs up, which he returned.

harold smiled and thanked his bandmates, and ellie couldn't help but feel warm. she had a found another family in them, and she was beyond grateful. not many people her age have the bonds that their little band shared with one another. she was thankful that some people actually accepted her for who she was and treated her the same way they would treat their own close family members. joel was the only one she had at first, but because of them, her world expanded and became even better.

with that, she decided to let the matter go first and stop giving their poor leader a headache. her feelings for his most precious sister could be dealt with some other time, preferrable when everyone's less stressed about it.

"ellie?" you answered the door in surprise, looking at your friend with curious eyes. "what are you doing here?"

ellie cocked her head to the side in confusion. "practice, doll. what do you mean?"

you stepped aside and opened the door, letting her in that morning. she ruffled your hair as always and went in, plopping down on one of the chairs in the living room comfortably. it was her second home after all-- no one would contest that.

"i know, but didn't you get harry's text?" ellie's eyebrows furrowed, bringing her cellphone out to check. "he said practice would start later evening. he and lance had to rush to uni for a report," you told her, sitting on the other couch near her seat.

ellie scrolled through her messages and didn't see a notification, which was odd because harry never missed messaging reminders, especially if they were about their schedules. he respected their time way too much to do that. it must've been a mistake-- that, or he was messing with her, waking her up that early for no reason.

she mumbled a few profanities, swearing to get back at him, before putting her phone aside and slouching on the chair. "well, i guess i'll spend the day here. got nothin' else to do anyway," she said, folding her arms behind her head, hoping your eyes would at least linger a bit on her body. and they do.

she smirked a little when you abruptly looked away and turned the television on, showing Kingdom on the streaming app. "mi casa su casa, els."

els. she was only ever gonna like that nickname if you say it.

"have you eaten, babygirl?" she stood up, scrutinizing your face for any indication that you were affected by the pet name. she did a little fist pump in her mind when she saw the blush on your cheeks deepen in a redder shade. "can i cook for us?"

you cleared your throat and waved your hand, pretending to be nonchalant. "our kitchen is your kitchen. and you know what i like already, so pleasee," you spoke, lying down on the couch without looking at her.

ellie smiled dipped down, coming face to face with you and your adorable blush. "me, right?"

she laughed when you pushed her face away, complaining that the two of you were too close and she should go ahead and cook because she was starving. ellie affirmed and let her know their food would be ready in several minutes, obliging her princess who doesn't know she's her princess yet.

she got in the kitchen, cleaned her hand and the cooking wares she was going to use, and decided to just go for a typical omelette with bacon and sausages. kid ellie would always say that she would be caught dead first before ever cooking for a man, and she made sense because the only person she would cook for was her girlfriend who wasn't her girlfriend yet.

when the meal was almost done, she peeked inside and saw that you already set up your dining table for the two of you, meaning there really was no one around.

"y/n, babe, food's done," ellie called, and you were there to assist her in no time, preparing all the food in their respective plates. you two brought it over the table, and immediately chowed down on the food as if you weren't being fed by your parents and brother.

ellie looked at you fondly as you chewed on your food carefully, wanting to avoid any incident that might humiliate you somehow. she was just glad you were eating comfortably compared to back then when it was harder. she would cook and cook for eternity if it meant you would have the smile you had on yours face right now forever as well.

"love your cooking," you said in-between bites, scarfing down your food.

"careful. harry or your mom might hear and cry," she joked before eating her food herself.

you chuckled and placed your utensils down once you finished everything. it surprised ellie a bit, but it made her happy more than anything else. she was just waiting for you to wife her up.

"el," you called, looking down at your lap.

she stopped eating for a while, and took your hand, worried at the sudden change of mood. you seemed anxious, playing with your fingers like that again. ellie ran her thumb over your knuckles, asking, "what's wrong?"

you pursed your lips before shaking your head. "nothing. maybe we can talk about it later."

"sure, let me just finish this quick."

"no, take your time," you insisted, giving her a small smile which tugged at her heartstrings, as cheesy as that sounded. "meet me in my room when you're done, okay? don't rush, and just leave the plates there. i'll clean them up later."

ellie nodded in agreement and watched you go up to the second floor and disappear into your bedroom before going back to eating. it made her anxious too, wondering if harold told you anything about yesterday and asked you to stay away from her. that was why even if you told her not to rush her breakfast, she still did, being unable to take the suspense.

she left the dining room and quickly raced up the stairs, turning to the right at the top to go to your familiar bedroom. she knocked twice then went in, and saw you sitting by your bed and looking out the open window.

ellie's eyebrow's bunched up in worry, taking the seat next to you and holding your hand gently to let you know she was there no matter what. you turned to look at her and sent her a small 'hi.'

"hi, doll, what's wrong?" she asked, cutting to the main point.

you smiled a little. "it's nothing. i've just been deep in thought."

the girl frowned and brought your head onto her shoulder. "it's not nothing if it's making you think that deeply. c'mon, you can tell me. is anything hurting?" she asked, running her fingers through your hair.

"i- i'm scared of asking you," you admitted, looking down to avoid her gaze.

she decided not to force eye contact yet. "about what? i promise i'll respond gently. when have i not been gentle with you, doll?"

thankfully, you were the one to look up at her first, and she gave you a reassuring smile. "c'mon, n/n. it's just me, no need to be scared."

panic settled in once she had seen the tears pooling in your eyes. she asked what was wrong again frantically, bringing your face into the crook of her neck to allow you to cry to her. you let out a few sobs until you started fully crying, and then you managed to calm down. ellie was not good at comforting, so she was kind of relieved you were the type who didn't need many words to feel someone was there trying to make you feel better.

"c'mon, babe, what's wrong?" ellie coaxed, wiping the tears off your face.

"that's what's wrong.." you murmured, looking down.

her mouth hung slightly open, truthfully not understanding what you meant. you sighed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it close to you.

"you call me 'babe' or 'babygirl' and i give stupid romantic meanings to them and i just... what if you'll actually never see me as someone's and your little sister? i'm gonna be stuck with these feelings on my own, and i won't get over you, and i don't even know..." you said quickly, as if this was the only time you had let these thoughts out into the world.

ellie, on the other hand, couldn't be any more overjoyed than she was at the moment, but she had to keep her calm first because you were emotional, and she didn't want to overwhelm you much more than you already were.

instead, she grabbed one of your hands, and her other went to cup your face gently so that you two could look at each other deeply. she let out a little chuckle before speaking, "i have never looked at you as just a little sister. if you just knew how head over heels i was for you the moment harry introduced us," she said with a large grin. "i've got to be insane if i don't see you as a woman i wanna be with."

your lower lips trembled. "really?"

ellie laughed and stood up, gathering you in her hold and spinning you around, garnering laughter from you as well.

"yes, really! you're the only i would ever let in my personal space, clueless girl!"

the girl fell on your bed with you on top of her, and she smiled lovingly up at you, giving you a quick peck on the lips. "i've always wanted to do that."

to her surprise, you brought your lips together, kissing each other to make up for the years that the two of you could only hug and smile at each other. ellie sat up and flipped the two of you so that you would be underneath her, caged in her arms. she let go of your lips and went down to your neck, trailing downwards.

the two of you could feel your breaths become deeper, with your eyes darkening with need.

"you hungry?" you asked with a small voice.

ellie smirked. "famished."

oh well, harry's blessing was mattered less now that you made the first move.

#ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou

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blooddrinkingbartender · 2 days ago

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"Maybe next time, I'll be able to smack him with my cane at the very least, that'll hit a bit harder than my fist," Antonio said, with a small grin then, "But it was satisfying to not have to throw a single punch, I will admit."

"I am too," Russell said. As much as he usually didn't hold grudges, Five had definitely earned some ire from him and he hoped that scar would last forever, especially knowing that Lucien caused it.

"Heh, thanks. Glad to be part of it," Travis said. While it was a shock and he was still taking all of this in, he meant it. They all seemed like pretty cool people and Russell was a good judge of character.

Russell had gotten to work setting some cups and glasses up, along with snack plates. Antonio put the kettle on, and was looking through the cupboards for the various teas and the coffee Bill kept. He got a pot of that set up after taking a moment to measure out a better amount of the ground beans.

"Th-thank you," Russell said to Lucien and Antonio, glad for their help, "Th-thank you as, as well, Erica."

It seemed they made a pretty good team in here as well as when they were trying to fight a threat. Maybe when this was over, they could perhaps do something like this for a gathering.

"Now that her mother's here, I think she'll be fine," Antonio said. He certainly felt confident of that fact.

Leofric had started to get up again when he realised that Bill wasn't bleeding from a wound, but crying. The sound was recognisable, which meant the smell was the blood was dripping from his eyes. Despite the fact he was crying and hadn't wanted anyone to see, Bill still wrapped his arms around Rook in a tight hug. That seemed to help ground him for the moment.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted you to have to see me like this, especially with what just happened to you," Bill said, quickly grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and putting it to his cheeks, it wouldn't do to accidentally get blood on Rook's hair or face, "I was just so worried about you... and then seeing Leofric like that, seeing Erica get shot and everyone else risking themselves in that fight, I'm usually better at holding it back."

He tried to joke.

"Maybe it's because I'm sick, right?"

"William," Leofric said from where he sat, "It's okay to cry in front of others. You don't have to justify it or try and downplay it. I think all that repressed emotion has been wanting to escape for a while, and this was what forced it out."

"Yeah, don't sweat it, blood drinker," Travis then said, "Having emotions or showing them isn't a bad thing. It took me too long to learn that myself."

"Indeed. And you didn't even have to punch anybody this time."

No, he wasn't still annoyed by that. Not too much at least. It was merely some playful teasing between fellow mindbenders. The main crisis was over. Somebody had to take the first step to ease the tension a notch.

"I will relish that thought." he added, nodding to Russell.

Veronica didn't flinch in the least at Travis' reaction. She was too busy working to get Rook out of her armor at the moment, but still couldn't help a small grin.

"The pleasure is mine. Welcome to the madness." she replied, before nodding to Leofric, "And I'm quite alright. We were being kept from turning solid for the most part. I'll ensure my daughter isn't in immediate danger, then have a look at you as well. Take some rest for now."

Lucien watched Veronica get to work to take care of Rook with all the tenderness he would expect from a loving mother. He never questioned why his friend had put everything on the line for a chance to see her mother again. The answer was right there.

He straightened his back and shoved any other thoughts relating to the topic aside along with the magical fatigue. "I'm fine." He forced himself to say, "The feeling is temporary. I'd be glad to help as well."

Whatever got him away from that. Lucien didn't say anything when Erica trailed after him on the way to the kitchen. The elf probably enjoyed more quiet places regardless of the presence of apple juice.

Smokey hopped back into Erica's hands, being more than content to be with his friend again.

"I hope Rook wakes up soon." Erica admitted quietly. She moved to sit on the wall for the time being to stay out of the way.

"I'm sure she won't keep us waiting."

And Lucien wasn't wrong. Right on time, Veronica found herself shaking her head when Rook woke up and immediately dragged herself over to Bill with what little strength she had.

It went as well as one would expect. So Erica leaped out of the kitchen to grab her double and dropped her by Bill's side. She then sat back while Rook slowly leaned in to let him know she was there for him.

#theotherrookie #Frisky Barkeep | Bill #Reproached Paladin | Leofric #Cynical Magician | Antonio #Flightless Moth | Russell

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666writingcafe · 3 days ago

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Sneaking Away

A Few Weeks Later

AKA: Anna Lets Her Character Bias Show

Content Warning: NSFW for sexy biting

The formal part of RAD's opening ceremony goes smoothly. Everyone's speeches--including mine--were well received, and the ribbon gets cut to the sound of camera flashes. Inside is where the party truly begins. Drinks are flowing, people are mingling, and hips are moving as the DJ plays popular tunes through various speakers. Everyone's having a great time.

Well, everyone except for me.

Lucifer's been distant ever since we've returned from Cocytus. If it were just from me, I'd be handling it better, but even his brothers have received the cold shoulder from him. I know better than to push him to reveal his feelings before he's ready, but at the same time this night was to be an unofficial goodbye before Solomon and I returned to our timeline, and the fact that I haven't heard a single peep out of Lucifer...

I would much rather sit through a three-hour lecture with him yelling at me than the continuous radio silence. It also doesn't help that he seemingly disappears into thin air as soon as the two ribbon pieces hit the ground and that no one else knows where he went.

"Go."

Solomon places a hand on my shoulder and leans in close so that other people can't hear him.

"What are you talking about?" I whisper.

"You've had closure with the others. You deserve to do the same with him. I'll make sure you aren't followed. Now, go, before it's too late."

Ducking out a semi-hidden door at the back of the auditorium, I reflect on Solomon's words. I've been able to have conversations with the other brothers about my true identity. Some had more questions than others, and some held grunges for a few days, but at least they were willing to talk about it.

Unlike the eldest, who seems more content with hiding.

Speaking of which, where could he be?

I'm currently sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the night sky.

Of course. It's probably the most quiet part of this entire building at the moment. Thankfully, I know where its hatch is. Scaling the building like a mountain goat would bring too much attention.

~~~

I know Lucifer senses my presence. If my scent didn't give me away, then the noisy hatch surely did. And yet he does nothing to acknowledge it. I suppose I should take this as a win; he hasn't told me to fuck off, not even when I walk over and stand near him.

We lean against the railing and look out on the landscape in silence. As much as I want to say something, I know that he has to be the one to break it. He's always had difficulty revealing his emotions, especially when he's not under the influence of alcohol or serums. I'd only cause him to put up even more barriers if I confront him about it.

And so I wait.

The clock in a nearby tower chimes eleven times.

"What are we?"

Lucifer's sudden question causes me to jump.

"W-What?"

"In your timeline. I'm aware of the pacts, but is there anything outside of that?"

"I...I don't understand--" Lucifer quickly turns his head to look at me, his eyes nearly glowing.

"What am I to you, MC?" His voice wavers. Is he trying not to cry?

I take a deep breath. Out of all the things he could have fixated on, I didn't think this would have been what he latched on to.

"Do you remember me telling you about the man I left behind to be here?"

"The one that you would have married if circumstances were different?" I nod my head.

"I was talking about you, Lucifer." A brief pause to allow him to process my words. "Does that answer your question?"

"It certainly makes me feel better about doing this."

"Doing what--" In a blink of an eye, Lucifer closes the gap between us, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss that threatens to take my breath away.

He steps back a moment later and grabs my hand, his face flushed.

"Let's get out of here."

"But what about--"

"We gave our speeches. As far as I'm aware, the rest of this evening is just a party celebrating Diavolo's success, and I don't want to pretend to like people that wanted us gone only a few weeks ago. Besides, my brothers' antics will keep everyone occupied enough that our presence won't be missed, so that'll allow us plenty of time to ourselves."

"You know that Solomon and I were planning on leaving once things wrapped up here, right?"

"Don't worry; we'll come back. I just..." A sigh. "Look, I know I've been distant towards you lately, and I want to make it up to you. Please, MC."

I've always wondered how Simeon came up with some of his characters' dialogue. How much of it was strictly was from his imagination, and how much of it was things he believed certain people would say if they acted out his scenes in real life?

How much of it was him indirectly influencing the future?

"I still remember the day I first met you, almost like it was yesterday." I find myself murmuring. "The way you fixed your eyes on me, that noble yet sincere gaze..."

"The moment I beheld it, I was transfixed." I didn't think Lucifer still had access to my memories, so how is he able to recite the next line? "And that was it. There was no going back. I fell for you completely, body and soul." He brings the top of my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

And then suddenly we were no longer on the rooftop, but instead inside Lucifer's room.

"I apologize, MC, but I can't hold back any longer."

He quickly picks me up and sets me on his bed, saddling me as his lips feverishly touch mine. Our hands soon begin wandering, taking in as much of each other as we possibly can. His mouth travels down to my neck, where he bites down on it and begins sucking.

It is common for demons to drink each other's blood when they get intimate.

Something I've never been able to do as a human, but here...

My mouth latches onto Lucifer's shoulder, my teeth sharp enough in this form to pierce his skin. His blood's quite rich, almost like a deep dark chocolate.

But the low, drawn-out moan that emanates from him is what causes warmth to spread all over my body.

"I want you," he murmurs. "I need you."

His expression is nearly identical to the one that Diavolo wore when Lucifer was in his former angel form in Cocytus.

Like I'm the most beautiful, magnificent creature he's ever beheld.

"Then take me."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer

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justiceforvillains · 22 hours ago

Text

CALL ME M O N S T E R

➽ PAIRING : Vampire Hyunjin x Fem Reader

➽ SUMMARY: Vampire Hyunjin has lived hundreds of years alone, only leaving his castle when the thirst became unbearable, so what happened when a pretty-faced, broken human asked to be his blood pet?

➽ WARNINGS : Mention of Abuse, body bruises and injuries, implied starvation

[Part 1] [How it's like Living with Vampire Hyunjin]

Note: "Shadows" is something I made up; they have no souls or opinions or anything; they're just mindless black shadows, basically his puppets.

Hyunjin's anger simmered as he paced his darkened chamber. He didn't even know why he was angry or why he cared. The human's scars told a heartbreaking story. How could they be so cruel to their own kind?!

He recalled your desperate tears and your willingness to surrender to him

to what your kind called a monster.

He called upon his shadows

Hyunjin's gaze narrowed. "Prepare a room. See to their wounds. Feed them. Clothe them." Before the shadow could take another step, Hyunjin sighed, and with a flick of his fingers, the shadow disappeared. If you were already terrified as it is now, there's no use scaring you more by having a shadow come get you.

He re-entered the bathroom, not surprised to find you curled on the floor, trembling. you were still crying, not even noticing his entrance; it seems like you won't be showering anytime soon now

Gently, he lifted your chin, cradling your fragile form.

"Little one," he whispered, "no harm will come to you here." Your eyes widend at his words, "y-you will a-allow me to stay here?"

His expression softened, but he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Don't get too comfortable, though. You're only here because I need a decent blood pet."

You stayed quite; he could still feel your little body tremble and shake. He sighed again before he carried you.

As he carried you to your new quarters, he muttered, "Stupid human. Thinking they can just waltz in here..." His gaze drifted to your bruised face. "And thinking I'd care."

you trembled slightly "T-thank you, my lord."

Hyunjin deposited you onto the plush bed, gruffly ordering, "Stay put. Eat. Sleep. Don't make a mess. These are the rules if you want to live here."

Hyunjin's scowl deepened. "Don't thank me. You're here for my convenience."

As he turned to leave, your tiny hand grasped his sleeves. "M-my lord?"

He froze, pretending irritation. "What?"

Your voice barely registered. "Aren't...aren't you going to feed on me?"

Hyunjin's mask slipped, revealing pity. it was apparent what you were doing; you wanted him to feed on you to make sure he will eventually let you stay and not kill you. A vampire's promise can only be sealed with a deal; the deal hasn't happened yet so obviously you were skeptical

"with the state you're in, you can't even stand on your own; one bite and you will die right here." you nodded. "that's very kind of you..my lord."

Your hands retreated, fingers fluttering like injured birds. "Sorry, my lord."

He swiftly recovered, snarling, "Fool. Don't misunderstand. You're just…a useful tool."

Hyunjin shook off your grasp, grumbling, "Don't touch me."

As Hyunjin turned to depart, Your stomach growled loudly. He spun back, catching your embarrassed flush.

"Food, right," Hyunjin muttered, snapping his fingers. A shadow rushed in with a steaming tray.

Y/N's eyes widened at the weird creature, immeditly backing away fear evedance in the air mixed with sadness. "i-i t-thought you won't k-kill me; i'm sorry, please; i will b-be good."

"They're harmless; they're just my servants; no harm will come to you I gave you my word already." Before you could say anything else the shadow dropped the tray on the bed before disappearing before your eyes.

. "O-oh…so much!"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "Eat. Don't waste my resources."

you didn't need to be told twice you dug in, slurping noodles, sauce dripping down your chin. Hyunjin's gaze unwillingly lingered.

Hyunjin sighed, handing Y/N a napkin. "Clean yourself."

Y/N dabbed, smearing soup across their cheek. Hyunjin's lips twitched.

"You're a mess."

You lowered your head. "Sorry, my lord!" You were already making mistake after mistake till when will he be so patient? You thought, When will he just get rid of you or, even worse, send you back to the village? you shudder at the thought.

Hyunjin's resolve crumbled. He grabbed a damp cloth, gently wiping your face.

Y/N's eyelashes fluttered. "Th-thank you…"

now that he's looking at your face he could tell there were some small bruses and cuts some on your lips and some right below your eyes

Hyunjin's touch lingered, his mask slipping. "Just…be careful."

you cowered, eyes wide, as Hyunjin's fingers brushed their skin.

his jaw clenched. He rose, departing abruptly. "Rest. I won't bother you."

Y/N's whispered "thank you" followed him, tinged with hope.

ok so i really need your guys opinion on this one because i used a new AI thing to help me with the grammar and spelling and sometimes it recommends other words so please tell me if you like this or not

Also, I would really appreciate it if you thought I should continue this since I already have the next chapter kinda written, and let me tell you it's going to be HOT!

one last thing would you guys like it better if i said Y/N all the time or just "You"?

[How it's like Living with Vampire Hyunjin]

[Part 1]

✦ Masterlist ✦

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marshmallowprotection · 1 day ago

Note

Hello I would like to personally put that ribbon with a bell on catboy Ray's tail :3

Ray's expression was incredulous as you held out your hands. There was a small gift package meant for him to open, but he seemed more caught up in the fact that you made something for him rather than trying to figure out what you made. He mentioned to you once before that he hadn't had the chance to celebrate anything before... nobody ever thought to give him a gift for "no reason".

He didn't know what it felt like to receive a gift "just because"! In your eyes, that was sad. Sure, nobody was entitled to a gift out of the blue, much less on their special day, but it just felt... unfair to think that he hadn't been able to experience the wonder of someone wanting him to feel special because they thought of him. There was no obligation to give him a gift, but you wanted to give it to him all the same.

As he tilted his head to the side, his ears perked up. "You made a gift? For me?"

"Of course," You reassured him with a nod of your head. "I wanted to make something special for you! It's been a while since I've seen you and I thought you might want a reminder of me when you're working hard."

How could he say no to that? What Ray craved more than anything else was the chance to be doted on, after all. You knew it from the moment he lit up when someone complimented him for the first time. That person being you, of course, but still, nevertheless, you wanted to make sure he never forgot what it felt like to be doted on.

Out of anyone trapped in this place, he deserved to have someone tell him he was worth much more than what his Savior told him he was. Nobody else was going to go to the "trouble" of trying to brighten his day, but you weren't some kind of "nobody". You were his precious game tester, and you weren't going to let him forget it. Just as he had decided you were precious to him.

"Do I... do I open it here?"

You chuckled. "I don't mind if you open it with me, but it's okay if you would rather wait to open it when you're back in your office. Though, if I'm being honest... this is a gift I'd love to see in person... I won't be greedy if you want to experience this gift by yourself first!"

Ray thought about it for a moment. You didn't want to rush him into deciding one way or another, knowing that your gift might spark him into a troubled heart, but you were eager to see his reaction when he realized what his gift was. Even if he decided to open it by himself, it wouldn't take long for him to call you and ask question after question about what your gift was meant to do.

But, much to your delight, he took the gift from your hands and began to quietly unravel the bow you used to close the box. Ray's hands trembled in what could either be nerves or excitement. He took his time, setting the bow to the set before lifting the lid and digging past the pink and purple tissue paper to procure the gift hidden underneath.

"...A collar?"

As he held up the present, a pink ribbon with a bow tied in the center knot, his cheeks began to burn the same rosy hue. It dangled from his fingertips as he tried to make sense of it. He was as charmed as he was perplexed. You didn't expect him to call it a collar, though. It took a while to find something that wouldn't remind him of those old nightmares he told you about...

But, if that's his first thought... is it okay to continue from here?

You shook your head. "Oh no, dear. I wouldn't ask you to wear a collar for me. I know your history with them... the last thing I would ever do is gift you something that would bring up bad memories. This is very different! If it's alright with you, could I... show you what it's intended for?"

You expected him to be reluctant. But, he wasn't. Ray held out his hands so you could reclaim your gift. Even if his first thought was something akin to his worries, you knew this gift was different. He could opt out of it at any time, and you wouldn't insist he continue wearing it if it truly reminded him of an oppressive collar. So, with a tug, you spun Ray around so he was facing away from you, and he gasped.

It was the sweetest sound, so cute and awed by how easily you could sway him.

"Now, Ray, if you don't like it..."

"I know, [Y/N]... you won't force me to do anything I don't want to do even if I would go along with it."

It was better to reaffirm his consent.

You twirled the fabric from the base of Ray's tail all the way to the tip, making sure not to compress the skin beneath the fur but making it just tight enough to keep it from falling. Unlike Saeran who would flick his tail at the smallest bit of indignation, when Ray swished his tail faster and faster, it was because he was feeling... nervous about this or that. It wasn't that odd to see him tuck his tail around one of his legs to keep it from showing.

But, as soon as you pulled your hand away, his tail began to swish back and forth, tempering the newfound weight the ribbon added with glee. The jingle, jingle, jingle... carried a tune that reminded you of what his heart sounded like when you kissed him in the gardens. It was methodical, slow, and sweet.

"There we go," you patted his head. "Now, you're looking like a very pretty kitty, Ray."

Ray peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his tail, only to spin around in place to hunt a better view of it. You pressed a hand to your lip to stifle the sound. He looked more like an eager puppy trying to catch his tail than a kitten who received his first bell! But, the more he spun, the more delighted you became.

You caught him by the arm and held him in place, lifting his tail around his center so he could watch his tail twitch in excitement. There was no way he could hide what this made him feel. He wasn't a good liar, something always gave him away, but seeing his tail show it felt the most satisfying. Every rattle of the bell was a reminder of how excited Ray was.

"I'm a pretty kitty?"

With a gentle ruffle of his hair that forced his ears to sway under your touch, you grinned. "You're my pretty kitty... that's better than just... a pretty kitty, Ray. Thank you for wearing my bell... this way, you'll hear the sound of my heart every time your tail moves."

Jingle, jingle, jingle...

#sensetenou #ask #mod kait #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #mm #choi saeran #ray choi #choi ray #ray mystic messenger #ray mysme #ray mm #mm ray #mystic messenger ray #mysme ray

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6rookie-writer0110 · 1 day ago

Text

A new life together

Dick Grayson and Male Reader

Request - If you can do a DC's Titans Dick Grayson and male readers birthday and dick plans a special birthday dinner for him then proposes to him after dinner reader says yes and just end up cuddling in front of the fire.

Today is your birthday and tonight your boyfriend is going to take you out. He takes you out to eat first and it was at the restaurant where you had your first date with him.

“Wow, we haven't been here since our first date,” You said

You drink your soda and he is smiling at you.

“Yeah, it's been a while now. I thought why not here and the food is still good” Dick said

“Remember you accidentally spilled your drink on me” You giggled

“I was hoping you forgot about that,” Dick said

“I didn't forget, Dick. The date wasn't that bad and we are still together” You said

“When that happened I thought you wouldn't go out with me again, I thought I ruined the date,” Dick said

“Before you spilled the drink on me, I did have a good time and that's why I agreed to a second date,” You said

“Well, I’m glad you did agree to see me again,” Dick said

You and Dick are still smiling at each other. Then you two started to talk about something else, then he ordered dessert. You ordered a milkshake and he is holding your hand.

Later, He surprised you by taking you to the aquarium. You and Dick have been dating for a long time and are madly in love with each other. You know that he is Nightwing and he doesn't hide secrets from you. You and Dick try to have date night often but it can be hard when he has to go fight criminals.

You are holding his hand while walking around. Then you take a selfie with him by the turtles and you send him the picture.

“That looks so cool,” You said

“I really like the picture. Do you want to go look at the otters?” Dick said

“Sure,” You smiled

You and Dick head to see the otters. You take pictures of the otters then you and Dick went to pet the stingrays. Dick takes a picture of you touching the stingrays and sea stars.

You go to the bathroom and he waits for you outside. Dick has the ring box in his hand and he is feeling even more nervous. He starts to think about how to ask you to marry him. He saw you come out of the bathroom, he quickly put the ring box away and stood up fast.

“Do you want to go look at the sharks?” You asked

“Yeah,” Dick smiled

You hold his hand and head to see the sharks. You and Dick started to look up and saw different kinds of shark swim by. Dick can feel his heart racing ‘Now or never’ he thought to himself. He lets go of your hand, he takes out the ring box and he goes down on one knee. Some strangers started to watch him

“Y/N” Dick smiled

You look down and you are in shock and feeling speechless.

“W-what-what are you doing?” You stuttered

You don't move your hand away, then he opens the ring box.

“Y/N, I love you. Since our first date, I knew I wanted to be with you forever. You make me happy and I want you to be my husband. I want to create new memories with you and I will never stop loving you ever. I know we belong togther, Y/N. In every universe I know we belong together. Y/N, will you marry me?” Dick said

Everyone is still watching and you feel their eyes on you and him.

“I love you and forever. Yeah, I will marry you!” You smiled big

He puts the ring on your finger, people Cheer for you two. He stands up and you kiss him on the lips and he can't stop smiling.

“I can't believe we are getting married,” Dick said

“You thought I was going to say no?” You asked

“Yeah. Some people run away once marriage is mentioned. I can't wait to tell the others” Dick said

“Me too,” You said

You kiss him again.

✫ ✫ ✬

You and Dick went home. He is putting wood in the fireplace then he starts the fire. You and Dick sit in front of the fire and start to eat the cheesecake togther, but he feeds you a piece.

“How did you know my ring size? I don't even know my size” You said

“I checked online and I printed a ring size chart. When you were sleeping, I put it around your finger then I went to the jewelry store” Dick smirked

“That was smart to do. I really love the ring” You said

“That’s good to know. I wasn't sure about the style but I’m glad I picked that one” Dick said

He gives you a peck on the lips. You cuddle with him. He puts the blanket over you and him then you and Dick start to talk about wedding plans.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x male reader #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #male reader fanfic #male reader insert #male reader imagine #dick grayson imagine #dc imagine #male reader fluff

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maluuustrawberry · 3 days ago

Note

Hey did you finish Undesirable Encounter Part 2 Ty 🥰🥰

Undesirable encounter

Part.2 (Claude Frollo X Reader)

A/N: Hi dear, sorry for the delay, I said I would do it hehehe. I wanted to thank you readers for your support and I didn't expect the first part to get so many views (I'm surprised, almost 500 notes) and a lot of people asked me for the sequel so I do. I did it with my best friend @thefanofnotredame, I hope you like it❤️. {If you haven't seen part one, it's here}

°•°•°•°•°°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It was morning, around 8 or 9 o'clock. You were already awake, but in your room. It was hard to stop thinking about the judge's fateful and unwelcome appearance in your store. As you sat in front of the window in a wooden chair, you sipped a hot drink in front of the only light in your room, which was white and dramatic, melancholy.

What made you think even more about the whole situation was the fact that tonight you were supposed to go to the palace of justice and deliver the damn cloak and pair of gloves to Frollo in person. The whole thing was uncomfortable, almost dark. Just thinking about that man's touch on your hands again... Argh! How horrible. But at the same time, there was something very... peculiar about the look in his eyes from before. That look that touched you - almost literally - with all that malice; it was almost a trap for something that, suddenly, in front of your bedroom window, began to attract you very much, almost like hypnosis.

Realizing that you were already too absorbed in your own thoughts and near delusions, you quickly shook your head and left the window, heading for your closet so you could change your clothes.

At the same time as this was happening, on the other side of town, the judge was in his palace of justice and completely isolated in his office. No guards entered or left where he was. He walked from side to side, looking like he was going to go mad at any moment. He wasn't even wearing his judge's clothes, just a baggy white shirt with brown pants, which stuck to his legs, and black shoes.

The judge seemed troubled by something he couldn't solve. A legal case? Criminals and murderers going wild in the streets of La Cité? No, it was something else. It was a person who kept him awake.

After meeting that seamstress for the first time, he couldn't stop seeing her in his dreams, his morning thoughts or even his everyday actions. He felt that she was following him in everything he did.

How? How could a woman of such a low class, compared to his own, bewitch the man of God? He looked out of the window at the grayish-white light and wondered: How could he, the judge who had humiliated her, look her in the eye again? Was he the one who was being embarrassing or was he the one getting embarrassed by the way the young woman looked? Everything - all those questions drove him crazy. He wanted to isolate himself from all these thoughts, because he knew that God could easily hear them at any time.

Frollo really had to do something about all those feelings. He couldn't get rid of them, either by shouting at the guards or by making a cruel judgment on some criminal. "God, what has this woman done to me?" the man asked himself, distressed and sitting down in the chair in front of his desk in his elegant office.

Suddenly, someone knocked on his door.

“Come in.” The judge answered, giving the person permission to enter his office, putting his arms on the table and placing a hand on his forehead, almost rolling his eyes with hatred.

One of his guards poked his head into the office, spying on the judge for a few seconds and then entering the office completely, closing the door behind him. The guard looked nervous, worried, but maybe it was just the way this place and the judge made him feel:

“Speak up. What happened?” Frollo asked, looking at the guard.

“Sir, we've already dealt with the problem.”

“What problem?” He asked, distracted and staring at the table with old paperwork and a pot of ink with an exaggeratedly large black quill.

“The problem, sir. With that bandit from a few days ago. He confessed that he stole a lot more than we thought, can you believe it? Jewelry, shoes.”

“Yes, and?” He lifted a sheet of paper from the pile, looking at some words. With that answer, the guard was startled.

“...what do you mean, sir?” The guard asked, almost in shock. “We've been trying to get a word out of this thug for days! He's so strong.”

“Are you finished?”

When the judge cut off the guard's speech in such a rude way, he raised his head at him with a very annoyed expression, as if he hadn't wanted to hear a word the young man had said:

“I don't care about this guy anymore. He's given us enough trouble. Throw him with those rabble of prisoners, tramps and criminals! Let's have a trial with him another day.” Rolling his eyes at the papers again, he pulled out one of the sheets and read it. He showed no real interest on it, not a single one, and the guard realized this quickly, frowning downwards.

“Sir, is something wrong?”

“Hm?” He moved his head to look at the guard, totally inattentive and with his mind on something else.

“You seem... I don't know... discouraged? We were too focused on the bandit issue.”

“I just lost interest, I have more important things to worry about.” The judge replied dryly and sighed. “I'll be receiving a seamstress tonight at the palace of justice, stay tuned and let me know if she arrives.”

“Oh, yes, the seamstress... as far as she's concerned, we didn't hear from her this morning. So, just to be on the safe side, we'll check on her later, since the delivery won't be until the evening. What do you think, sir?”

In the blink of an eye, the judge raised his head to look at the guard, almost as fast as a drop. He widened his eyes and almost let his mouth open wider than it should have, just for finally being able to talk about that subject that had only been stuck in his head and that was finally hanging over their conversation. "Oh, what a relief!", thought the older man to himself:

“I think it's very good, lieutenant.” He said, already with a slightly shrewd and debauched expression, arranging his arms on the table and placing an elbow against the surface near the papers, putting a hand under his chin, holding his head. “Well, you remember that she was suspected of helping and harboring those gypsies, don't you?”

“Yes, sir…”

“When you go there, keep an eye out if you happen to see any gypsies in that store. Make sure she's actually doing something good, because I don't want her to cheat me, or even try to.”

“But why would a mere seamstress have bad intentions towards you?”

Suddenly, Frollo cast a very threatening glance at the guard, slowly getting up from his chair and resting his hands on the table:

“You're not thinking of denying my order, are you?”

“B-But, sir, I…”

“Are you?”

The guard, his eyes wide with fear, began to stutter and placed part of his hand against his forehead, making a sign of obedience to an order:

“I'm not, sir!” He spoke, almost fearing for his life and looking up so as not to have his soul ripped out by his eyes.

“Good…” The judge sat down as if it were nothing and looked at the rest of the paperwork. “Go and see the girl and bring me news. I want it to be quick and brief, unless you want to join the bandit in being tortured too.”

“Y-Yes, sir…”

“Oh! You want that?...” The evil man cut the guard off abruptly, mocking his nervousness with an evil smile, while still looking at the papers and the table.

“I-I don't want to, sir, I mean...I...I'm going”

The poor man, practically submissive in his position, left the judge's office in almost the blink of an eye, afraid of being sentenced right there.

Even though the judge delighted in such agony coming from a 'little man' like the one in front of him a few seconds ago, he slowly wiped the smile off his face, because the image of the lady sewing appeared in his mind again. "What a curse, what torture! She must be a witch, that's for sure. That woman can't get out of my head, she's like a needle stuck in my skull!"

And so it went with the man, slowly becoming anguished inside every time he thought of the beautiful seamstress. In the blink of an eye, it was afternoon.

The seamstress kept moving around and always ended up bumping into one place or another, injuring herself on her frames and arms. All this was happening because she was so anxious, even if it was only to make a pair of gloves and a cape. After many restless minutes, you finally sat down to sew:

“Damn judge, damn man... he could ask for these things anywhere else, but no! He wants to torture me, to punish me with his hypocritical, petty, mean 'justice'!” The seamstress complained nervously as she touched up the fingertips of the glove.

Suddenly, you began to feel watched, so you decided to look up and were startled: a guard, not at all discreetly, was watching you through the window pane. It was the usual clumsy man, of course, but the fact that he was - of course - directly sent by Frollo made your blood bubble even more. Since you couldn't take your anger out on the man, you looked down after a few seconds and gritted your teeth with your mouth closed, but with your lips visibly curved, showing that you weren't happy at all.

It also made you a little tense and one of the reasons was that a gypsy woman was hiding with her daughter in the basement of your store, if they came out of there now, that would be it, but on the one hand you were a little relieved that they came before the guard arrived and stared at you at the door. It seems that Frollo knew what you were up to.

The poor woman was fighting against time. As she passed the thread and needle through the fabrics, she didn't realize that it was - almost literally - going by faster than the day. Even with blood, sweat and hatred, she finished her work and let out a great sigh, taking the air into her lungs as if it was the first time she had done this all day.

When you raised your head, to your surprise, it was still late. The sun was still setting and the sky was slowly losing its reddish hue. Ah, that was enough to blow your mind.

“... I can't believe it.” You said, almost without blinking and with a look of disbelief at the situation, looking sideways and putting a hand to your forehead. “My God... how? It can't be!”

Good. Now you had to wait until the evening. Of course, it would be just as bad if you ended things at short notice, but... waiting anxiously for that meeting with the man to happen was torture. Since when are you punished for beating the clock?

“DAMN!” You shouted, groaning in anguish and getting away from your desk to go somewhere else. “If he doesn't ask for me to be picked up with his carriage, he's going to hear some good shit! Sending some little guy to put pressure on me?! Well, how inconsiderate…”

And you kept talking as you paced back and forth as soon as you stood up, but you realized that time wasn't going to go any faster if you kept muttering your discontent. You had to calm down or you'd go mad. The seamstress decided to make herself a cup of tea in an attempt to calm her nerves and read a book so that time would pass more quickly.

*****

Night fell. The streets were dark; along with the curfew that had begun to apply earlier in the day in the city. As expected, no carriages passed your store. Well, what a surprise, huh?

Before the curfew started, the Romani woman and her daughter said they were going out, you insisted that they stay and come back to the Court of Miracles only in the morning, but they didn't want to bother you, so, to be safer, you recommended that they go out the back.

The seamstress was sorting out the judge's gloves and cape. After that, being a vain woman, you meticulously checked in your mirror that you looked good, that your dress fit you well and that your hairstyle was impeccable. Why this excessive concern? You didn't know, you had no idea.

Draping a shawl over your shoulders, you left your store and began the lonely walk to the palace of justice with the package. The cold evening breeze touched your face, the beginning of winter in Paris. Walking through the streets, you could see the stores and markets closing and residents heading for their homes, respecting the curfew while guards stood on every street corner, ready to arrest anyone who was bold enough to break the judge's rule.

Little did the seamstress know that, from afar, Claude Frollo was staring at her from one of the tower windows of his comfortable office, while you had to walk to where the man was. Poor woman, isn't she? Covering herself with a shawl so desperately not to be seen... wait. A shawl? Oh. Oh, my goodness.

When the man realized that you were wearing something to cover your bust and shoulders, he widened his eyes and walked backwards in surprise, but then began to make a serious, fearful expression. His mind started having those thoughts again, those unconscious and absurd thoughts.

With each passing second of waiting, the judge felt as if his self-control was going to fail him at any moment and almost threw himself into the chair behind his desk as he sat down, trapped in his sinful reverie. His body suddenly began to heat up, irritation gradually took hold of him and he regained his composure.

Finally, the girl reached the gates of the Palace of Justice. The guards who were there soon saw her:

“Is this in your hands the order of Judge Claude Frollo?” One of the tall men asked.

“Yes, he said to meet him now.”

“Very good.” He replied.

The men opened the doors of the place and you entered, almost quickly, making the men close the door faster than usual too, with his hands still on the thick iron rods. At that moment, they looked at each other and made a strange expression, with their faces a little closer:

“Is that pretty girl the seamstress?” The guard on the left asked, almost whispering.

“Yes, she's really pretty. But I didn't know that women could run their own business without their husband's supervision.” replied the one on the right, causing the one on the left to make a slightly annoyed expression.

“Yeah... I don't even know if they can, not like that. The crazy judge must have made her do something for him on purpose, just to embarrass her.”

While the men gossiped about the strange situation, you walked around the place with a somewhat cowed look on your face. The place seemed too gloomy to be focused on justice, almost like a gloomy marquis' castle, full of guards and torches in every corner. You looked up and the ceiling was higher than that of any house or mansion, and the colors were too dark to distinguish at that time. The seamstress began to walk faster and arrived at the judge's office. Anger gradually overcame you at the knowledge that you would have to see this man's face again and you regained your posture, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door, then hearing that authoritative, harsh voice you knew all too well saying "Come in"

If it wasn't already clear enough that night fell faster than a stone before, it would be even more so now, precisely because of the moonbeams invading the man's office, his face being the first thing you could see. When you entered the office and closed the large wooden door behind you, you could see the place around you better and even noticed a small fireplace burning in the corner of the room:

“Good evening, sir.” You said seriously, trying not to be nervous, but it was a little obvious, and you couldn't let go of the delivery in your sweat-damp hands.

Frollo simply looked at you without changing his cold expression. After watching you arrive through the window, he quickly changed and put on only his big judge's cloak over his ordinary ones.

“Finally.”

He slowly got up from his chair and put one hand on the table, leaning on it and stepping out from behind it, putting his arms behind him. You put the bag with the delivery on his desk, without looking at his face:

“Since I didn't take your measurements, I ended up using a previous client's size just for a base, but I can correct it if it doesn't fit.”

“Well, but, seamstress…” The judge quickly countered, in a false and mocking tone just to bother you. “How am I supposed to know, or rather feel, that this is the right size? My fingers aren't like any other man's…”

“By putting them on.” You answered in a tone as if you were stating the obvious, your gaze going to him now as you held the long cape.

With that answer, he made an offended expression for a second, but quickly rolled his eyes and closed them, taking a deep breath. As if nothing was wrong, he walked towards her and stood in front of her, looking haughty.

“Be brief. Let's see the package I ordered.”

The woman had to hold back the urge to roll her eyes in disgust at his haughty air of superiority. You showed him the cape, he could see a little of it from the fireplace:

“I made it from the pattern that would look best on you, in my opinion.” The cape seemed to be made of two fabrics, burgundy on the inside and black on the outside.

The man looked closely at the cape, even took it in his hands and brushed his fingers against your for a brief second, coughing in a discreet and slightly embarrassed way, a little electricity and adrenaline coursing through his body at the slightest touch, which, deep down, he craved. He disguised it:

“Not bad. Silk?”

“Yes, sir…” You nodded. “Can you turn around, please?” He was a little suspicious of your request and you held back a sigh. You couldn't believe that you had to explain everything to him. “To see if the size is correct.”

“That's fine.” He said irreverently.

As he turned, Frollo felt the girl's delicate hands brushing against his skin again, but this time on his neck - which made him clench his jaw as he closed his eyes. He didn't know if it was a common agony at being touched by commoners or if it was something beyond his own self-centeredness. And yet, the seamstress had no idea what her touch was doing to him, after all, she was only being professional:

“Is the length good, or would you prefer it shorter?” You asked, breaking the silence.

“It's perfect.” He answered quickly, as if he was going to have a fit.

You then removed your hands from around his neck and shoulders, folding the cloak and placing it on the table. Frollo could still feel the small flaming trail of the girl's hand on his body, which made him miss it a little and yearn for more. When he turned around, the seamstress was taking the black gloves out of the bag and he immediately held out his left hand to you, who found this strange since he could put them on by himself.

"Look at that." you thought a little annoyed as you put the glove on his hand. "He's so inconvenient... how can he be? He wants me to act like his maid, doesn't he? Do you think I'm honored to serve you? Idiot judge..."

“So, sir?” You asked, turning your gaze to his and pretending to look calm “Are you satisfied?”

“With what?” He asked, slightly startled and almost wide-eyed.

“...with the gloves and the cape, sir.” You answered, confused by his reaction and holding your hands together, your arms against your hips in a formal way. You even blinked a little, trying to understand the situation.

“Oh, yes. They're suitable…”

He answered in such a strange way that it only made the seamstress think that he wasn't in the best condition to be seen at that moment, as if he was bothered by your presence or even that he didn't really like your delivery at all. You didn't care, but deep down you were worried about something, you felt bad and it wasn't just because of the energy of the palace of justice or the man in front of you:

“I think it's over here. The value was eight pieces of silver.”

“Before you go, seamstress, I want to clarify a few things...”

Frollo spoke as he moved away from you, going to the door and turning the key in the lock. You watched this action and a shiver ran down your spine, your body frozen with fear and anxiety. By instinct, you took a step backwards and your hips ended up resting on the edge of the table, trapping you:

“Do you think you can outsmart me?” He put his hands together as soon as he closed the door, approaching you but standing at a ‘respectable’ distance.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know very well what I'm talking about, seamstress.” He spoke with hatred in his eyes.

“This Romani business again?” You asked, defensively and looking him up and down in disbelief. He couldn't have found out... “I told you I didn't help anyone and you searched my store.”

The older man didn't hold back his laughter when he saw you insisting on the lie. He had you trapped now, like a fly caught in a spider's web with no way out. He continued:

“You're a brazen viper…”

“Your Honor, despite your position, I will not accept being called that. If you want to have a normal conversation with me, at least be respectful.”

This took him by surprise. He hated that boldness, especially coming from a commoner like you - who had defied him before. His blood boiled with both hatred and lust as he recalled the moment before the first time he had been in your store, remembering how defiant you had been, but also your hands touching at that moment. Out of anger, Frollo stepped closer, taking heavy steps and cornered you, resting his hands on the table on either side of you. Your breath caught in your throat and you opened your eyes wide in fear and surprise:

“You're the one who owes me respect here, and don't change the subject. I sent one of my men to your store and received news that didn't leave me stunned: Two gypsies coming out of the back of your store... what do you have to say about that?”

It shocked you. You've been found out. Fucking guard...

Your heartbeat was racing from the truth being discovered and the proximity of the man, which caused you fear, nervousness and anxiety, leaving your legs weak. Claude laughed a little when he saw her silence and her expression and continued:

“It's a shame to see you lying and risking your life to save that gypsy scum who doesn't deserve such kindness…”

“Get away!” You murmured a little frightened and he didn't move, overwhelmed by hatred and the little lust present.

“Viper sorceress... What do you have to say about it? What's your defense?”

You put your hands on his chest, preventing him from coming any closer. He practically spat those words out of the hatred he felt for being tricked. With your movement, the shawl on your shoulders came down a little, the judge's heart pounded and he swallowed dry at the sight in front of him. As frightened as you were, you noticed that look on yout shoulders and that expression of disgust, but at the same time so lascivious... Then you realized something in his previous words that made you confused:

“Sorceress? Why are you accusing me of witchcraft? What evidence do you have against that?” You asked in a defiant and angry tone.

“There's no point in denying your crimes!”

“I'm not denying it, I'm not denying that I lied! And yes, I tried to save those Romanis, but I won't accept false accusations of witchcraft... What proof do you have against me? Tell me!”

The man froze. He just stared at you as if you were something that frightened him, or even something that he just wanted to touch. He looked as if he was going to pounce on the seamstress at any moment, as if she were prey. That animalistic feeling grew inside him even more under the moonlight and the light of the fireplace, the two of them staring at each other as if any false move would end in disaster.

Suddenly, the judge looked down in a reflective manner, his gaze almost trembling, while the sound of the wood burning became deafening and the flame that burned it seemed to be less warm than the sensation they both felt in their bodies, heating them up with adrenaline. He muttered something, but you couldn't hear it, which annoyed you a little and you asked seriously:

“What did you say? Speak loud and clear, what have you got against me?!”

“You've bewitched me!” He vociferated with hatred in his voice, and continued. “You've made me, a man of God, desire you as you've never desired anyone. The love of a convict!”

You were both silent for a few seconds, weighed down by the weight of your emotions, you stunned and he foolish:

“I don't know what kind of witchcraft you've done, seamstress, but you're driving me crazy. I've been thinking about you from the moment I laid eyes on you... and your shoulders... and your hands...” He turned a little to the side, looking at his hands gleaming in the firelight. “... So lacking in discipline and obedience, so blatantly... How could that attract me? It felt like a thousand demons were attacking me, with visions of a woman flashing through my mind and my eyes, and this woman… was you.”

He looked at the reddish fire in the fireplace with a little difficulty, intense. A reflection of his repressed emotions being exposed, in the midst of a chaos that could no longer be controlled. You were in shock. A shock so tremendous that you were speechless at such accusations, your heart racing like the judge in front of you, you felt hatred, but also pity... why?

You came out of your thoughts when you felt his hand in contact with yours that was resting on the table, squeezing it as if you were some kind of possession of his and his thumb caressing the back of your hand:

“But I can forgive you for this crime and pretend that nothing happened…”

He whispered close to your ear, his warm breath in contact with your neck making you shiver. Because he was so close, Frollo could smell the perfume on your neck. You asked, challenging him:

“And who are you to think that your forgiveness is so important to me? God, by any chance?”

With that answer, anger took over the judge's body and he gripped your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him, who had fire in his eyes. His fingers squeezed your cheeks:

“I swear to God, I'm going to break your arrogance, woman.”

Unexpectedly, you were surprised by a kiss on the lips before you could say anything else. Your eyes widened at the unexpected action and you tried to pull away, but he wouldn't budge; on the contrary, he pushed you harder against the table. You hated yourself for the next move…

In a second, you closed your eyes and returned the judge's kiss. Even though it was a rough, hateful kiss, it intensified, bringing out a confusing mixture of sensations. Frollo's hand, which was on your chin, slid down your face until it reached your neck, squeezing lightly, but not enough to suffocate you, so that a moan came from you. He took advantage of this moment to enter your mouth with his tongue, exploring it. An uncontrollable and overwhelming desire dominated them both, and they didn't care about anything else at that moment.

You broke off the kiss to catch your breath. You were confused by what had just happened and Frollo stared at every part of your face; your eyes, your slightly rosy cheeks and your beautiful expression... Frollo's hand didn't leave your neck, as if he wanted to show some kind of dominance there.

The two of you get closer and closer again, as if you were hypnotized and surrendering to lust to start another kiss. A sudden noise comes from the office door, which causes the judge to quickly let go of the woman and move away, pretending nothing has happened and his stern demeanor returning, but still with suspicion and desire present:

“Come in.” he allowed, before clearing his throat. And you quickly recovered before the door opened, straightening the skirt of your dress and draping your shawl over your shoulder.

The door opened to reveal the guard, who, upon entering, hesitated slightly as he realized that he didn't seem welcome at the moment. Even so, he insisted on saying something:

“Hello, sir… and miss.” Said the man, confused. “Am I in the way?”

“Be brief…” Frollo sighed and ran a hand through his gray hair.

The soldier looked at them both briefly with trepidation and decided to look away, trying to avoid the tension in the air.

“Well, er…” Before continuing, he coughed “I just wanted to ask your permission to start training this afternoon because we've been waiting and…”

He started babbling on about it, as well as being brief as he ordered, which irritated the judge, an irritation visible in his eyes. Frollo just nodded as if he didn't care and also seemed anxious for the guard to finish once and for all and leave. You just wanted to get rid of this embarrassing situation, you were afraid that the guard would suspect what was going on between the two of you and you wanted to get back to your store before you caused any more trouble:

“Well, since we've finished our conversation, I think I should go. Goodbye, gentlemen.” You said, bowing slightly as a gesture of respect and farewell.

Frollo was surprised by what you said and then raised his face with a different expression, as if he actually wanted you to stay, but you quickly fled the men's sight and left the judge's office, passing through the corridors that led to the exit of the palace.

As you walked down the street to your house, you were still thinking about what had just happened. You soon arrived at the store and quickly locked the door, as if you were being chased by someone, then leaned your back against the wall and brought your hand up to your lips. You'd just kissed the cruelest judge in Paris, you'd just kissed the man you hated and you'd fallen for your own hypocrisy.

Both went against their own laws. Both went against their own character. Both felt that everything was about to turn upside down. On the one hand, a judge on the verge of a moral collapse, on the other, a seamstress trapped in mortal doubt. The ending is almost as clear as glass: Grandiose changes and a drama that could end in either blood or something unacceptable to French society.

End...

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